The Moments That Count
by Miss Moon River
Summary: Troy kissed the top of her head, smelling the strong, fruity fragrance of her hair. “Whatever you decide – to stay with him, to leave him, to keep the baby, to not keep the baby, I’ll support you.” AU Troyella
1. Chapter 1

AN: This is pretty AU, so I'll help explain things as the story goes along... Troy, Gabi, and Chad grew up the best of friends in Albuquerque. Gabi always had a crush on Chad and was BFF with Troy and as of now Gabi and Chad are dating, but I promise it will end Troyella. The three musketeers are roomies and Troy is a doctor, Gabi a lawyer, and Chad's an NBA player with hopes of becoming the next big Hollywood thing...

The Moments that Count: Chapter One

When Troy arrived home, the apartment was silent and dark.

The fact that it was eight o'clock at night and house shouldn't be silent and dark alarmed him. Usually, when he got home at eight o'clock at night, the lights were on, the television was blaring with a sitcom or the news, depending on who was at home or had won control of the remote, and the kitchen was filled with the warm, delicious scent of dinner.

Instead, when he shoved the front door open - it kept sticking - the apartment was pitch black. Troy stumbled and tripped over a pair of Chad's shoes. He tried to regain his balance by grabbing onto the hallstand, but knocked it over, sending coats, scarves, umbrellas, and hats flying everywhere. He fell along with the clothing, knocking his knee on the sharp edge of the still-open front door. Releasing a string of curses, Troy groped around for the light switch.

Light illuminated the scene.

The hallway, except for his prone body, the mess of clothing strewn across him and the floor, and Chad's offending shoes, looked the same as it always did. Rather than righting the stand and picking up the clothes, Troy stood, vengefully kicked the shoes out of the way, dropped his bag by the front door, and continued down the hallway.

Passing by his bedroom, Troy winced at the mess. It was probably about time for a clean up. Passing Chad's bedroom, he noted how beautiful and tidy it looked, with everything in its place, no dirty clothes on the floor, the bed crisply made, no washing to be put away or any other clutter across the surfaces.

Gabriella's room, Troy knew from experience, would be similarly neat.

The bathroom, which was opposite Chad's bedroom, was really an amalgamation of all of their personalities. In compromise, they'd put two of the Lakers posters up – laminated of course – and Troy, just to annoy Chad, had blown up a picture of he, Gabriella and Chad when they were about seven, dressed in costumes to go trick or treating for Halloween. Chad was Shaquille O'Neal of course, but Gabriella and Troy, in deference to their mothers' wishes, were dressed as Sleeping Beauty and Prince Phillip.

Chad hated that picture.

Troy remembered with amusement that Gabriella and he had complained endlessly about being cast as Sleeping Beauty and the Prince. Gabriella had ripped the skirt of her dress, Troy used his fake sword to steal candy from younger children, Gabriella had stolen his hunting hat with the feather and pretended to be Robin Hood, and he'd taken a portion of her skirt for a cape and pretended to be a superhero.

They'd ended up pitching and catching a baseball on the Danforth's front lawn, under the porch light, at nine at night, arguing about whether Superman or Wonder Woman was a better superhero, whilst Chad divided their rather large and immorally commandeered candy haul.

Otherwise, their bathroom was relatively neat, although relative meant different things to all three of them. The basin was mostly clear of any clutter, with only shaving cream, Troy's razor – which Gabriella used for her legs anyway – and Gabriella's box of hairpins visible. But the shower caddy was overflowing with half-used shampoo and conditioner bottles, sample sachets, shower gels, body washes, a collection of face washers, and a rubber duck that Troy and Gabriella had found at a garage sale, hanging off the end.

The hallway opened up into the wide living area. The living room, dining room and kitchen all ran together.

The living room was the most used room in the house, with its well-worn, comfortable green couch, the two armchairs that they constantly fought over, and the coffee table Troy and Chad had built with left over wood left. Gabriella had painted it in bright orange, deep red and sunny yellow in imaginative patterns.

Today's New York Times was strewn haphazardly across it, along with various magazines, a notepad, a few pens and pencils, yesterday's half-finished crossword, the weekly TV guide, one of Gabriella's thick case files, Troy's spare stethoscope and the cordless phone, which was beeping to say it was low on battery.

The dinning table separated the living room from the kitchen; it was all an open, sunny space, painted in a creamy color that made the room look larger. It had been a dingy room when they'd first moved into the apartment, nearly six years ago. The table was an old Bolton relic that had seen far better days; but Gabriella and Troy loved it and refused to get a new one, although Chad was always complaining about its rundown appearance and offering to buy a new one.

Placing the cordless phone on its charger near the microwave, Troy checked the whiteboard on the fridge where they left each other messages. There were four new messages; one written in Troy's sprawling script from breakfast this morning, two in Chad's wide handwriting, and one in Gabriella's unmistakable hand.

Chad, who'd just finished this season with the Knicks now had the luxury of sleeping in until lunchtime. Chad's minor sports fame quenched his thirst for real fame and he's slowly trying to break into Hollywood. Since that's worked so well for other athletes.

Gabriella, an Assistant District Attorney, held down a regular job like Troy, although neither could say they had especially regular hours. Gabriella was often called to crime scenes at three in morning, and working in a hospital came with horrendous shifts that were slowly beginning to abate as Troy moved further up the chain of command. He read over the messages.

C – Robbie Tratoria from your agency rang at 8:00 this morning…you were asleep of course. Says he's looked over a new script. Wants to do lunch. It's so Hollywood in New York…pretentiousness abounds – T

T – Your sister rang just before lunch…she woke me up. I told her you were at the hospital. If she didn't get hold of you there, she just wanted to ask about your mother's birthday present. PS – Sorry, I know you have three sisters…it was Stella – C

G – I won't be home tonight, so it'll be just you and T for dinner. Don't wait up…I'll be in late. Robbie and I are doing dinner instead of lunch. No pretension on the menu, Troy – C

T – I'll be home at about seven or eight…I have a meeting with a witness. So, I'll take a risk, put my life in peril, and ask you to cook dinner. There's ground beef in the fridge – I suggest your famous spaghetti. Kisses. PS – the kisses bit was pretension – G

Troy sighed. He'd have to call Stella – she hadn't found him at the hospital, and he'd also have to start dinner. His shift had been a nightmare: an endless parade of sick, dying people; drug overdoses, too many gunshot wounds to count, and worst of all, a kid who'd been severely burnt in a fire. The kid had died ten minutes before Troy's shift ended.

He was about to pull the beef out of the fridge when he heard a noise from Gabriella's bedroom. While Troy and Chad's bedrooms were at the front of the house, Gabriella's was at the back of the house, leading off the living room. She claimed it gave her the privacy she deserved as the only female in the apartment. Troy knew she'd just wanted the view from the window: it overlooked the street.

The sound, Troy realized, crossing back around the dinning room table and through the living room, was the sound of someone crying. More specifically, it was the sound of Gabriella crying.

"Gabriella," he said carefully, worried about Gabriella. She rarely cried, which mean it was serious. "It's me. Can I come in?"

"Troy," Gabriella said, her voice thick with tears and surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, I live here, honey," he reminded her, and then, considering that he'd known nearly all his life, and had seen her in just about every state before, including tears, he opened the door.

She was sitting on her bed, curled up in a ball, tears streaking down her face. "Go away, Troy."

"Sure." He sat down next to her, and pulled her knees away from her body, so that he could put his arms around her. "What's wrong Gabriella?"

"Nothing," she said, as his arm circled around her waist, pulling her head into his neck, where her tears wet his collar.

"Yeah," he agreed sarcastically. "That's why you're curled in the fetal position, bawling your eyes out. You're Gabriella Montez. You almost never cry. Except at the end of Stepmom."

"Even you cry at the end of that movie," Gabriella protested. "And I hate to disillusion you, but I do cry. I'm not infallible."

"No, I keep getting us confused. We can't all be God." When it didn't provoke a sarcastic response or a smile, he knew something was definitely up. Troy tightened his arm around her waist, smoothing her hair away from her flushed and miserable face. "Honey, you look like crap. Tell me what's wrong."

"I...I can't."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is it something I've done?"

"No."

"You don't trust me?"

Gabriella shook her head. "I trust you with everything."

"So?"

She sighed and tucked her head back between his shoulder and neck. "You know how you're going along, and life seems fine? You're happy, and you've got a great job with great people, and you're making a difference, you live in a fantastic apartment in New York, with your best friend and your boyfriend, and you get to buy nice designer clothes, and you managed to get out of Albuquerque, which was so massive for you, because you thought you'd be there forever…and then…bam and other stupid noises…it's all just…nothing is stable or safe, or the way you thought it was before, and even doing things like just getting in the elevator is all wrong and strange, and you can't…"

"Gabriella, what are you talking about?" he interrupted, completely confused by her random, teary babbling. "Unless you translate that incoherent mess, which had something to do with clothes and elevators, into English for me, I won't be able to understand you, sweetheart."

Gabriella took a shallow, shaky breath, and composed herself. "I went to see the doctor this morning."

Troy's blood froze in his veins, and he forced himself to breathe again. "Oh God, Gabriella. You've got cancer haven't you?" His hurried on, trying to reassure himself and Gabriella. "It's okay. It's okay. These things can be treated. I'm a doctor – I see people beat the odds every day. And I'm sure that the doctor got it in time, and…and you'll get treatment – the best treatment available – and you'll be just fine. Just fine. I'll be here, and I'll support you, and…"

"Troy," Gabriella interrupted with the sound of amusement in her voice. "I don't have cancer."

He looked at her stupidly before a relieved smile broke out across his face. "You don't?"

"No." Rolling her eyes, Gabriella wiped her cheeks. "I don't have a life-threatening disease, I don't have a mental illness, and I haven't been fired."

"You looked in the mirror?" he suggested. She elbowed him in the ribs, but she was smiling through the last of her tears. "So…you aren't going to die from some horrible disease, you don't need a stay in a psychiatric ward, although I think we need a second opinion on that, and you're boss still adores you. What's wrong?"

There was silence, her breathing even and calm, and her lips pressing up against his neck. "I'm pregnant."

"Preg – baby – pregnant?" His eyes went so terribly wide, Gabriella thought they were going to fall out.

"No. I'm going to have an elephant."

"A real baby?"

"Yes!"

He looked at her in disbelief. "Wow," he said softly.

"Imagine how I feel about it." She looked down at her stomach like it was something foreign. It felt like something foreign.

"There's a thing growing in there," he realized. "Like an actual, growing thing. It's…a baby."

"Well," Gabriella said, "You never know. It could be an elephant." She twined their fingers together, hers long and white, his strong and brown. "I found out at about ten o'clock this morning. I cancelled all my meetings - I couldn't handle it. And I walked around the park for hours."

Troy turned a discerning eye on her. "So what does Chad think?"

"He doesn't…" she trailed off.

"Think?"

"Know," Gabriella corrected.

Troy raised an eyebrow. "He's the father, Gabriella. I think he should be sitting here with you, in your bedroom, in the dark." He stilled and eyeballed her. "He is the father, right Ella?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "Unless you count that one-night stand I had with Elvis, or the affair I've been having with Jimmy Hoffa for the past few months."

"So Elvis is the one finished off the milk last week," he joked. "You're scared of telling Chad, aren't you?" Troy deduced. "You're always flippant when you're scared. Why, Gabriella? He'll be overjoyed."

"You don't know that for sure," she said in an ominous tone of voice. She'd been thinking very carefully about how to tell Chad since she'd found out, and the thought filled her with dread. She didn't think the thought should fill her with dread, but it did. "He has trouble committing to me as it is. Say the word marriage and the man runs screaming into the horizon. A baby could make things very sticky between us."

"And it could be the incentive for Chad to finally get his act together and ask you to marry him. I've been waiting nearly a year for Chad to get the courage up and pop the question. The man's an idiot – you've been together since college, for God's sake. You're his soulmate, and all that other bullshit Hallmark stuff he regularly invokes."

Gabriella sighed. "I just…I know he's going to be scared. I know that a baby, right now, doesn't fit into his whole fantasy plan of being the next Kobe Bryant/Will Smith, and I guess…I'm worried, that he'll…"

"He'll what?" Troy prompted, when she didn't continue.

"He'll…well…okay. What would you do if I told you I was going to have your baby?"

Troy looked at her with a clear expression, and spoke without hesitation. "I'd be absolutely ecstatic. I'd be speechless with joy. It would be like…the best thing that had ever happened to me."

Gabriella laughed softly and kissed his neck gently. The skin under his jaw was warm. "Isn't it funny how you and Chad have completely changed roles over the years? You're so responsible these days. Dr. Bolton, saving the ill, bucking the hospital system, comforting hysterically pregnant women." She tightened her grip on his hand. "I knew, the second I found out, that I could tell you, and not be worried about you freaking out. I know that you'd support me, whatever choices I made. I know that you'd…that you'd be responsible enough for a baby, that you'd want it, if it was yours."

"What makes you think Chad will freak out?"

Gabriella sighed. "You know what he's like. It's all about the next game, the next script. It's not really about me – it hasn't been for a long time. We're convenient and comfortable and good together for all those couple things. We fit each other because we don't challenge each other anymore. And we're sure as hell not ready for a baby."

"Gabriella…" he trailed off, because she was right, not matter how much he wanted to correct her. Chad was remarkably casual about his relationship with Gabriella. He'd taken her for granted for years; he chose dinner with the studios and executives over her; he didn't buy her flowers just because, take her out for dinner, or only remembered their anniversaries with some prompting. He figured that Gabriella would always be around and that she'd always wait for him. In fact, Troy spent more time with Gabriella on a day-to-day basis than Chad did.

Chad was also decidedly not ready for a baby.

Troy knew she was right, and although he wanted to lie to her, and tell that everything would be okay, he couldn't do that to her. "You still have to tell him," he finally said. "You can't keep something like this from him, and you're only making things worse by not telling him. He has a right to know."

"I know. And I will tell him, when I'm ready." She shifted close to him. "I guess I'm worried that he doesn't love me enough to marry me and have a baby with me and…" Gabriella couldn't continue.

"If he doesn't," Troy said slowly, "Then you don't need him. No matter how obligated you feel to him, no matter how much you love him. He's not worth it if he can't support your decisions."

"That's just it," she whispered. "I don't think I love him enough to have his baby, and marry him, and…and spend the rest of my life with him."

"But you…you…"

"I know I spent all that time pining after him, and I know that our relationship when we were adolescents was like a soap opera. But I'm out in the world now. I have a career, I live in New York, and I've grown up." She hesitated. "I think I've wanted something more than Chad for a long time. The baby just made me realize that."

Troy kissed the top of her head, smelling the strong, fruity fragrance of her hair. "Whatever you decide – to stay with him, to leave him, to keep the baby, to not keep the baby…I'll support you."

"I'm keeping the baby," Gabriella said with determination. "From the second I found out, I knew I couldn't get rid of this baby."

"Then we'll work it out," Troy told her, rocking her against him.

"I don't deserve you."

"Yes, you do."

"I don't. But, I'm pregnant, and what I say goes. I want your spaghetti for dinner."

"Pasta a la Troy coming right up. Come on – let's turn some lights on, put some music on, and we can dance, watch bad television, and I'll even give you a foot massage. And, well, I'll drink your share of red wine for you."

"Thank you so much," Gabriella said dryly, taking his hand and leading him out of her bedroom, into the living room.

"Pregnant," he said in a soft voice, and wondered why the word made him ache so badly.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Nope

The Moments That Count : Chapter Two

"You haven't told him," Troy said to Gabriella, three days later. They were sitting in the park, having met for lunch in between their insanely busy schedules.

She stared at him. "How do you know?"

"He hasn't said anything about it. The last conversation we had revolved around the new Matt Damon movie. The second he finds out, he'll storm into my room and start ranting."

"Yeah." Gabriella sighed. "I haven't got up the courage yet."

"What about sending him a singing telegram? Or a text? You know - a don't shoot the messenger thing."

"Troy!"

"You gotta tell him."

"I know." She reached over and stole a handful of Troy's fries. "I just...I keep getting the words lined up, and he starts talking about practice, or one of his meetings. He's so excited about his life right now. And I can't bear to ruin that."

"You still have to tell him, ruination or not."

"I hate you."

"Yes, but apparently, you like my fries."

"Sorry."

Troy grinned. "No you're not."

"No, I'm not."

He held out his fries for her. "Eat away. How are you feeling?"

"Normal. The same as ever. Is that...good?"

Troy nodded. "You've got nine months. It doesn't happen overnight. Right now, you wouldn't even be able to see your baby without the aid of a microscope."

"That's just freaky."

"Yeah," he agreed. "In eight months you'll be a whale and you'll wish it was that small."

"Shut up."

"Hey, you know what?"

"What?"

"Tell Chad!"

"Okay, okay." Gabriella rested her hand over his. "Thanks."

"No problem. Tell Chad."

* * *

"She's pregnant," Chad announced, unceremoniously throwing open Troy's bedroom door. "Gabriella…she's pregnant."

"I know," Troy said calmly. He'd deliberately sequestered himself in his bedroom since arriving home that evening. He wanted to give Chad and Gabriella some privacy, knowing that Gabriella was planning to tell Chad. And that, if she didn't, Troy was going to. He couldn't creep around the apartment any longer.

"She told you?"

"Yes," Troy answered. "I came home just after she'd found out. She needed somebody to talk to, and you were out with that guy from Tri-Star."

"Columbia," Chad corrected immediately. "And the meeting went really well. I think I might have a chance. They seemed to like me…they're calling me by the end of the week."

"It's good to see you've got your priorities straight, C."

Chad sighed. "But Troy…she's…I mean she's…pregnant!" he repeated for the third time.

"Yes, I do know what that is. I know more about that than you and Gabriella combined. I'm a doctor, Chad, remember. You saw me graduate."

"But pregnant! With a baby!"

"Well you never know…it might turn out to be an elephant," Troy joked. Chad didn't crack a smile.

"I can't be a father," Chad continued. "I absolutely cannot be a father at this point in time. I mean, I'm trying to build a career here. A film career, not a fast track to a management position at McDonald's. And a baby really isn't part of the plan."

Troy's carefully put his book down ad kept his voice as even as possible. Getting angry would not be constructive for anybody right now, least of all Gabriella. "You can adapt, Chad. You can be a father and still star movies and plays or play basketball. Plenty of people do it. Shaq has thousands of children, right?" Troy frowned. "Okay, that's not a good example."

"But I don't want to be a father! I'd…it's so life-changing. I'm not ready for that yet. Maybe one day, but not now. I don't think it's selfish for me to say that I want my life to only be about me, right now."

"Well, it is selfish!"

"How?"

"How is it not? Your life is never just about you, Chad. You make commitments to people. You made a commitment to Gabriella!"

Chad ignored him. "And Gabriella says that abortion isn't even an option. She won't even put it on the table! Since when has she been a morally upstanding Catholic?"

"It's got nothing to do with being Catholic," Troy replied. "And I'm not surprised she doesn't want an abortion. Gabriella really wants this baby. Besides, if you think about it, she has to sacrifice more than you do. She has to take maternity leave, interrupt her career indefinitely, and be the primary caregiver."

Chad started pacing. "I just can't believe this! How could she be so selfish? A baby, for Christ's sake…I mean, of all the monumentally stupid things to go and do."

"I have a funny feeling you might have helped her a little, Chad," Troy said, still trying to keep a lid on his temper.

Chad ignored Troy. "Does she ever think about my needs, or my desires? What I want?"

Troy couldn't help it; he began to see red. "No, Chad, how could you be so selfish? This is her body we're talking about. This is Gabriella we're talking about. Remember, love of your life, your soul mate, the only person you want to be with for the rest of your life? Ring any bells? This is her choice, and if you love her, you'll support her, instead of only considering your career, your needs and your desires.

"This isn't Candy Land, Chad," Troy continued, growing angrier, his voice filled with rage. "This isn't a fantasy, where you can create the perfect ending, and cue the music, and make people's decisions for them. It's reality. And reality is changeable and perverse and imperfect and it isn't fair, and the timing is never right, but you don't get to run away from it into some safe little movie. The way I see it, Chad you've got seven months to get used to the idea of being a father. You don't get to pretend it's not happening."

Chad's face was going red, and his eyes flashed. "Don't you dare preach to me," he said, self-righteously. "You aren't the one having a baby."

Troy shook his head. "That isn't the issue, but for the record, neither are you. Gabriella is going to have your baby, and if you can't support her in that, if you can't be happy for her, if you can't put aside your own fears, and recognize that she's more frightened then you, and she needs you to be strong for her, then I would question how much you love her."

"She should have thought about it!" Chad exclaimed, still ignoring Troy. "She should have consulted me."

"It's hardly her fault!" Troy exclaimed. "She didn't get pregnant on purpose. And she didn't consult you straight away because she knew you'd react this way. She knew you'd freak your shit about this. And she was right! What does that say about you, Chad? Gabriella's probably in her bedroom right now, frightened to death, alone, and worst of all, she thinks that you don't care enough to put aside your petty, self-obsessed dreams and support her."

"I don't want a baby," Chad repeated.

Troy went silent, and asked the question they'd been avoiding. "Do you want Gabriella?" he asked in a low, intense voice.

"Of course," Chad answered, but the slight hesitation before he replied made Troy close his eyes, his heart aching for Gabriella.

Troy stood. "If you love her, you'll accept her, and her decisions."

"You don't know what's it like," Chad answered viscously. "You don't understand."

"All I know," Troy said, "Is that, if Gabriella was having my baby, no matter how scared I was, no matter how much it was going to affect my life, I would want it more anything else in the entire world. Because it would be a piece of her…and me."

Chad stared at him for a long moment, before pivoting and heading for his own bedroom.

And, in the hallway, Gabriella stared at Troy with wide, shiny brown eyes, before she turned around, went back to the kitchen, and started cooking dinner.

* * *

The rest of the weekend was horribly tense. Gabriella and Chad weren't really talking to each other, except when absolutely necessary. Chad spent most of the weekend holed up in his room reading a script or at the gym. Gabriella was preparing witnesses statements for an upcoming trial, so she spread most of the file across the dinning table and worked on that.

Troy hovered uncertainly in the kitchen, the living area, his bedroom, and, on Sunday afternoon, when the tension was palpable, the bathroom. When he emerged, at seven o'clock, Gabriella was standing in the hallway.

"Sorry, did you want to use the bathroom?" he asked, hurriedly vacating the room.

She shook her head. "No. I made dinner. A roast."

"Oh."

"It's ready. Chad's at the table."

Relief flooded over him. "You two are talking again?"

"No."

"Oh."

Gabriella grinned. "Sorry. It probably hasn't been easy for you the last few days."

"No. It's been great," Troy deadpanned. "He still won't talk to you about it?"

She shrugged. "He's not talking to me at all, but he's made it pretty clear that having a baby isn't on his agenda."

"Life is not an agenda."

"It is for Chad Danforth. Children don't hit the list for at least another ten years."

Troy reached out and rubbed her arm. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. But I'm not giving up this baby. And it'll break us up. He'll leave me. By the end of the week, he'll leave me."

"You don't know that."

"I do. And I'll regret it, and I'll be sad. But at least I know for sure."

His brow furrowed. "Know what?"

Gabriella half-smiled. "Chad loves the packaging. Not the small print."

"He's not ready for the small print."

She nodded. "I know. I can't blame him for that, and I can't make Chad ready. He either is or is isn't. He's being honest. He's also being selfish and fucked-up, but he's being honest about what he wants from me."

"You're amazing."

"I try."

"You succeed."

Gabriella shrugged again. "Anyway, he's going to leave, so this will probably be our last meal together. All three of us."

"Then let's go eat and make merry."

It wasn't a happy dinner, but they all knew it was the last one for a long time, so they made an effort. They stuck to safe topics; mutual friends, their jobs, goings-on in Albuquerque; sports; the Mayor's latest indiscretions. The lulls in the conversation were awkward; Chad refused to look at Gabriella, and Troy had to keep swallowing his anger and changing the topic, but they made it through.

And Troy realized that night, as he lay in bed listening cabs honk and New Yorkers live, that he wasn't sad. Just nostalgic for the time when he and Gabriella would play baseball on the lawn while Chad divided their Halloween haul.

Gabriella realized that she was relieved, and guilty for the things she wouldn't be able to give her child as a single mother.

Chad slept soundly.

* * *

On Wednesday, Troy swapped afternoon shifts with another resident at the hospital, and got home just before lunch. He found Chad in the kitchen, most of his possessions packed up in suitcases. He was holding for the cab company.

Troy leant against the doorway. "You're leaving," he said without preamble. Chad didn't say anything. "You're just going to abandon Gabriella and the baby without a second thought."

"You're here for her, aren't you?" Chad finally said, cuttingly.

"I can't be your second thought."

"But you can be her hero."

Troy made a noise of disgust. "You're a coward, Chad Danforth. And you're a liar. All this time, all these years, and you never really loved her. Not when it counted, not when it mattered. Not when she was sick with glandular fever, and had to be carried around and spoon-fed. Not when Taylor got meningitis and I had to go home to Albuquerque with her, because you were in training, and couldn't disrupt the moment. Not on your anniversaries, on any old occasion, because you just wanted to be with the wonder that is Gabriella Montez. And not now, when she's pregnant, and she needs you more than ever."

Chad told the cab company the address in a terse voice, before hanging up the phone. "She doesn't need me. And she hasn't needed me for a long time. She hasn't loved me for a long time."

"She needs you," Troy lied, because he knew that really, Gabriella didn't need Chad, and that he was right; Gabriella hadn't needed Chad for a long time.

"She doesn't need me. She has her knight-protector," Chad answered. "She's got you."

"She doesn't want me," Troy fired back. "She wants you. She wants the father of her baby, not the father's best friend."

"You're her best friend," Chad pointed out. "You have been for years. Who did she tell first, Troy? Me, or you? You. What does that tell you?"

"I can't believe you," Troy answered, his voice full of scorn.

Chad shook his head. "I don't have to answer to you."

"No, I suppose you don't." Troy knew there was nothing he could do. Just like he had always done, Chad was going to run from responsibility, from reality. He was going to chase his dreams, and serve his own needs.

And, just like he had always done, because that was his self-elected role, Troy was going to pick up the pieces and hold onto Gabriella when she needed somebody.

"Are you at least going to leave her a note?" he asked Chad.

"I…I thought that…well…" Chad hesitated. "I thought, that maybe you could tell her for me."

Troy and exhaled contemptuously, with disgust, before nodding slowly. "Sure, Chad. I'll tell her."

"Thanks."

Awkward silence descended.

"Are you going to come back?" Troy asked Chad softly, after five minutes went by.

"I don't know," Chad answered honestly. "I…I thought I loved her, you know." His face was one of anguish. "And I know you think I'm being selfish, but isn't it worse, to lie to her, to have a baby with her, when…I don't…love her? When she doesn't love me."

"She loves you," Troy protested.

"She doesn't," Chad continued. "She and I have been together so long that we've ended up thinking we're in love. We spent so much time together as children, that when were teenagers, being a couple seemed the next logical step. And everybody else expected it so, we just ended up together."

"I…" Troy trailed off, having nothing to say. "I'll tell your parents, when the baby's born. They'll know where you are. They can tell you."

"Yeah, thanks."

The cab honked from downstairs. "I'll help you with your things," Troy said, and they made it to the cab in one trip.

When the trunk was packed and the driver was waiting impatiently, Chad grabbed Troy in a fierce bear hug.

"Take care man," Troy said, in a sad voice; as much as he hated what Chad was doing, he couldn't throw away twenty-four years of friendship without sorrow.

"I'm sorry to put you in this position," Chad said. Troy shrugged. Chad hesitated, then said, "Hey, take care of her for me."

"Sure." He opened the car door for Chad, and closed it behind him. "Haven't I always?"

The driver pulled into traffic, as Chad told him he wanted to go out to Kennedy. Chad waved, and Troy waved in return, watching until he couldn't see the cab anymore.

* * *

When Gabriella got home that evening, she took one look at Troy and sighed with resignation.

"Chad's gone," she stated evenly.

"Yes," Troy confirmed softly. "Lunchtime today. He didn't tell me where he was going…"

"And he didn't know if he was coming back," Gabriella finished.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Troy said.

Gabriella put her briefcase down. "Chad and I have been getting ready to leave each other since we started going out. And it's better this way."

Troy looked her in the eyes. "You really believe that?"

"Sure. I would rather be without him than be with a man who didn't want to be with me, and didn't want to have a baby with me. He didn't abandon me Troy and you know it. Besides, the relationship was over a long time ago."

Troy watched her. "You okay?"

"Yeah." A single tear slipped from her eye. "I'm still going to miss him. I just...I know that this is my path. This is what I have to do. That sounds terribly sappy, but it's what I feel."

"Then you have to go with it."

Gabriella held out her hand. "Come with me?"

He wrapped his fingers through hers. "You don't have to ask."

* * *

AN: Thank you so much for the reviews...keep it up :) 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

The Moments that Count: Chapter Three

"I swear to God, Fate hates me," Gabriella said, straightening her skirt.

Troy frowned as he flicked the car alarm. "Why?"

"Two weeks after I find out I'm pregnant and Taylor has a birthday party. She's going to know the second I walk through the door."

"Gabriella, it's not like you have 'I'm Pregnant' stamped on your forehead."

"I do. I'm fat already."

He laughed. "You don't look any different."

She glared at him. "I don't?"

Troy put his arms around her. "Okay, so you look a little glowy. But you still have a perfect flat stomach, and your cleavage hasn't altered yet."

"Troy!"

"What? It's true."

"You don't need to comment."

He pulled towards the front door. "C'mon. Let's go."

The door was open, and the noise of the party drifted down the hallway. They walked through the house until they reached the back porch, where they found most of the guests mingling and chatting.

"Gabriella!" Sharpay called from under the oak tree.

They walked over to meet her. "Hey Sharpay!"

"I heard about Chad," the blonde said, hugging Gabriella tightly. "The guy's a fool."

"How did you find out?" Gabriella asked, whilst Sharpay and Troy hugged.

"He rang me, and I asked about you, and he said that you'd broken up. I stuck into him about it, don't worry."

"Did he say why?" Gabriella asked uncertainly.

"Well, no, but I presumed it was just Chad being a dickhead."

"It was," Troy confirmed. "Excuse me, I see Jason."

* * *

"Champagne?" Taylor said, holding out a glass to her.

Gabriella shook her head. "No thanks."

"What's wrong with you? You never say no to alcohol," Taylor laughed.

"She's driving back," Troy said quickly.

"One champagne won't kill you."

"No, I'm fine."

Taylor was about to say something when the CD changed. "Ooh, I love this song! Turn it up!"

Having consumed far too much alcohol over the course of five hours, Taylor dragged her reluctant husband, Alex, onto the dance floor and proceeded to prove that enthusiasm didn't necessarily make a competent dancer.

Gabriella laughed. "Oh, look at her."

"You going to tell her?"

"Not yet," Gabriella replied, irritated. "I'll tell her when I'm ready."

"When you're eight months pregnant and she finally confronts you about your over-eating disorder?"

"Oh, piss off Troy."

"You're avoiding tell her."

"And you're annoying me," the brunette snapped. "Jesus Troy! I'm still struggling with the news. And when I tell people I'll just have to explain that it's Chad's baby, but he left me, and it's just messy. I'm not ready."

"You're going to have to tell people you're pregnant eventually, Gabriella."

There was dead silence.

Gabriella groaned. "Good work, Troy."

"What?" he hissed. "How was I supposed to know the song was going to end there?"

* * *

"That was...painful," Gabriella said, indicating to change lanes.

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "Oh, fuck it. At least we only had to tell everybody once."

He laughed softly. "Taylor was fine with it. Even offered to lend us all of the stuff her and Alex bought for Marcus."

"She was, wasn't she? I really underestimate her sometimes."

Troy looked over at her. "How you doin'?"

Gabriella sighed. "I don't know."

"I'm going to keep asking."

"I know."

* * *

Gabriella, through some stroke of bad fortune, got morning sickness at nights instead of mornings. Just the mere thought of food - and the smells that drifted through the apartment - made her feel revolting. Troy would rush home at night and invariably find her on the bathroom floor, a picture of misery and frustration.

Troy would hold her hair back for her, and say nothing, helping her to bed, giving her herbal tea, cleaning up after her, and rubbing her back until she fell into a restless sleep.

"How you doin'?" he asked her, one evening when they were sitting on the bathroom floor.

"Like crap," she replied, leaning over the bowl again. "This is pregnancy, huh? I feel like I'll never get out of the bathroom."

"It doesn't get much worse than this."

* * *

But a week later, he walked through the front door to find Gabriella standing in the hallway. "Are you waiting for me?" he asked. "Do we have an appointment?"

"I've put on two pounds," Gabriella said in a flat voice.

"Good," Troy replied. "You're supposed to put on weight."

"This sucks. I'm fat."

He tilted his head and looked at her stomach. "Nah."

"Shut up Troy."

* * *

The morning sickness ended when she entered the second trimester, and Troy watched with awe as she began to grow. Her whole body began to change, softening, filling out, and swelling. She ate like a horse, and drank everything in sight. Gabriella hated it; it meant buying maternity clothes, and she didn't like the extra weight she had to carry around. It often made her tired and weighed down on her hips.

"How you doin'?" he asked in her thirteenth week.

"I don't know. Has my cleavage altered yet?"

He tilted his head and looked at her chest. "Nope."

* * *

Troy came home at about eight o'clock on a Friday night in about Gabriella's seventeenth week, and found her looking at her stomach with an unbridled joy that made his heart melt.

"What is it?" he asked, sitting beside her on the couch, and kissing her on the forehead.

"Here," she said, in a soft voice, circling her small hand around his wrist, and placing his strong hand over the tiny bump in her belly. "Wait."

And there it was - a bump against his hand. "I..." he stopped up short. "That's a...it's...kicking," he said, a smile splitting his face. There was another kick, and they both laughed at the new sensation. "You've got a football team in there," Troy joked. "Wow," he said softly.

"Pretty amazing, huh? I've been having this strange feeling all week - like indigestion actually. A sort of...a brushing against my stomach, I guess. Like a butterfly. It just kicked a few minutes ago, and I realized it was the baby the whole time." She smiled, eyes shimmering, her whole face glowing, and he finally understood what people meant when they talked about women glowing with pregnancy.

"I hate to say it Gabriella," Troy began, "But I think you're actually radiant with pregnancy."

Gabriella groaned. "I'm not, am I?"

"Afraid so." There was another kick. "The butterfly agrees."

"The butterfly, huh?"

"The butterfly."

Then she laid her hand over Troy's, as they sat in their living room, feeling the baby kick.

"How you doin'?"

"Pretty good."

* * *

AN: Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews, I appreciate it more than you know! Keep reading and reviewing...


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: N-O.

The Moments That Count : Chapter Four

"Do we have to go to this function?" Gabriella called from her bedroom.

Troy stood in the living room, looking anxiously at his watch. "Yes! I'm a guest of the Royal College of Trauma Doctors. And we're going to be late."

"I'm not going."

"What?"

"Just go without me."

"What the hell?" He walked over to her door. "Gabriella, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm not feeling well."

"Nausea?" Troy asked.

"No. Just...go without me."

He opened the door and found her standing in front of the mirror. "You look perfectly healthy to me."

Gabriella whirled around and glared at him. "Shut up! Look at me. I'm like a huge, ugly blimp."

Troy surveyed her. "You look fine."

"I look terrible." Gabriella was wearing a black dress that she'd bought pre-pregnancy. It was stretchy material and molded over her stomach.

He crossed the room until he was standing behind her. He turned her around until they were side on in the mirror. "See this?" He pointed to her stomach. "It's beautiful."

"You're just saying that."

"I'm not. You're extremely attractive. Almost more so now than before. I mean you've jumped a cup size. That's pretty impressive. And if just...do you mind?" he asked, pointing to the collar of her dress.

"Um...no."

Troy pulled it down slightly. "Much better. If you've got it you may as well flaunt it." She made to pull it back up. Troy grabbed her hands and held them still. "The irony is that you're so damn attractive right now, and you think you're ugly. You're coming to this dinner, you're showing off your cleavage, and I'm going to try very hard to keep my hands off you."

Gabriella's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really," Troy replied, kissing the back of her neck. "Now find the sexiest pair of shoes you own, and I'll give you a foot massage when we get home."

He returned to living room. Five minutes, she emerged, with the red shoes on and her hair pinned up. Troy raised his eyebrows. "You fiddled with the dress again."

She sailed past him. "If you've got it, why not flaunt it?"

* * *

Troy decisively dumped Peter Goldwyn's chart on the front desk. "I'm going to get lunch," he announced, and before anybody could protest, he headed to the lounge, where he pulled on some fresh scrubs, free of blood, and left his stethoscope hanging in his locker.

Taking the lift to the seventh floor, Troy jiggled one leg impatiently, his change jingling, and checked his watch for the time to make sure he wasn't late. He was, and he cursed the ancient lifts, which moved at a dinosaur's pace.

The obstetrics ward was another world compared to the ER. Instead of the noise that always greeted people in the ER, the OB was an oasis of calm and quiet. Troy could hear the faint sound of a baby crying from the nursery, but apart from that, the only other thing he could hear was a phone ringing.

He was vaguely familiar with the OB, having been up there a few times; once to visit a baby he'd treated for bacterial meningitis; and a number of times to deliver mother and child from the ER and tell the doctor the stats. He headed left down the hallway, moving away from the nursery, the normal beds, and the theatre rooms where difficult deliveries and C-section's were handled. Instead, he headed towards the exam rooms, where women had their ultrasounds and check-ups throughout their pregnancy.

Gabriella and Troy were reading all the books about pregnancy, labor, and early childhood. Gabriella was already buying little clothes and toys, and reading reports on the safest prams and bassinets. Their Lamaze classes were interesting, but Troy kept interrupting the instructor to correct her medical knowledge. Sharpay had come down and stayed the weekend, amazed at the changes to Gabriella's body.

Checking the patient's board near the nurse's station, he discovered that Gabriella was in exam room two, and, without consulting anybody, he found the room and entered.

"You're late," Gabriella said, in a crabby voice. The bad temper was the latest manifestation of her pregnancy. Her hormones were going nuts, Troy reasoned, and seeing as she was volatile even when she wasn't pregnant, it was no surprise her temper snapped at the slightest provocation these days.

She got irritated at him for drinking the milk straight out of the cartoon, for putting his feet up on the couch, for leaving the bathroom mat on the floor, and a host of other things that previously, hadn't bothered her in the slightest. She'd blow some steam, come back to him ten minutes later, smile sheepishly, and all would be forgiven.

"I was busy saving a woman from dying, and you know, other boring stuff like that," he answered, before smiling confidently at the doctor. "Hello," he said. "I'm Dr. Troy Bolton."

"I'm Dr. Kristen Edwards. I take it you work down in the ER."

Troy grinned. "Have that look about me, do I?"

"I'm afraid so," Kristen answered, pulling the ultrasound machine over to the bed. "Plus, Dr. Montgomery told me about you."

"Oh, dear." Troy winced. "You probably wouldn't have got a very good account from her."

"No," Kristen replied.

Gabriella rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't listen to Nicole Montgomery. She had a superiority complex, which she wasn't smart enough to have anyway, and she didn't like it when she discovered that Troy was a much better doctor then she was. Plus, she always drank the last of the milk in the mornings without any consideration for anybody else in the apartment."

Troy smiled at Kirsten. "If you can't tell, Gabriella was thrilled when I finally got rid of Nicole."

Kristen smiled. "I didn't believe her anyway. Now, Gabriella, the gel I'm about to put on will probably be a little cold..."

"I'm a big tough girl," Gabriella answered, though she did make a face when Kristen applied the gel, and spread it out with the radar over the bump that Gabriella still complained about, and Troy secretly liked.

"Now..." Kristen, turned the screen on, as she gently moved the radar across Gabriella's stomach. "We should be able to see your baby." Kirsten adjusted the screen. "Dr. Montgomery didn't tell me that you'd married, Dr. Bolton."

"I..." Troy looked at her blankly. "And exactly who I am supposed to be married to?"

The obstetrician blanched. "I'm sorry, I just assumed that you two would be married, but we have lots of couples having children who aren't married."

"I still don't get it."

Gabriella rolled her eyes. "For some bizarre reason she thinks you and I are married and you're the father."

Troy shook his head. "No. No, you've got it wrong. I'm just the best friend, the Lamaze coach, and the punching bag."

Gabriella shifted slightly on the bed. "He's particularly good at the punching bag part."

Kirsten smiled. "I'm sorry."

"That's okay," Troy reassured her. "Gabriella probably wouldn't marry me if she was paid."

"You don't know that Troy," the brunette challenged. Troy tilted his head and stared at her. "Well, you don't! I'd marry you for...for...maybe, sixty billion dollars."

"I wouldn't marry you if you came with a Ferrari, Brie."

"I love you too," was the snappy answer.

"Poor Ella," Troy replied sarcastically. "I'm sure that's been keeping your therapist busy."

Gabriella was struggling to hide her smile.

"Here we are," Kirsten interrupted, recalling their errant attention. Gabriella and Troy concentrated on the screen, and Kristen moved the radar down a little. "There," the doctor said. "That's your baby."

Gabriella leaned forward, trying to discern the features, but Troy knew what he was looking for and distinguished the features immediately.

"That's the spine," he informed Gabriella, running his finger along the string of bright white dots that looked like a string of pearls. "And that flashing grey thing that palpitates like a light...that's the heart."

As Troy told her that, the radar picked up the fetal heartbeat, and the sound entered the room, beating fast and loud.

Gabriella's eyes grew wide as she made out the arms, and the leg and head of her baby. "I..." she exhaled.

"I know, it's a little overwhelming," Kristen reassured her, turning to smile kindly at Gabriella and the strange expression on her face.

Troy suddenly froze, and blinked a few times. "Ah..." he moved closer to the screen and squinted. "Dr. Edwards, I know I'm not a specialist, but I think you should probably take a look at that." He indicated an area on the upper left side of the screen.

Gabriella went a pale color and her voice became faint. "What's wrong? Troy...what's wrong?"

Kristen tilted her head until it was at the same angle as Troy's, the two of them looking at the screen as if it held the answer to the meaning of life. "I..." the doctor began. "Let me just move the..." she shifted the radar over to the right a little bit, and both she and Troy made small exclamations.

"What?" Gabriella demanded, her voice tinged with hysteria, and she grabbed the back of Troy's shirt, trying to gain his attention.

"Sorry, Brie," Troy turned back to Gabriella, taking her hand in his, and kissing her palm gently. "There's nothing wrong...exactly. You're just going to have to buy two of everything."

Gabriella stared at him. "I'm...there are...two...twins?"

Troy nodded. "Twins."

* * *

AN: First off, let me say thank you so, so, so, so much for the reviews, I love each and every one of them and they make me want to write faster and faster. Also, I know the twin thing is overdone, but I promise I'll try my hardest to make it my own. So if you read and review, I'll write and write, sound like a deal? 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

The Moments that Count: Chapter Five

Three days after the ultrasound, Troy finished work early, and caught a cab up to Gabriella's office. She was an Assistant D.A., and she worked in the Sex Crimes Prosecution Unit since joining the D.A.'s office, straight out of law school.

Troy wasn't particularly thrilled about her job. In many ways, he found the perverted individuals Gabriella prosecuted to be worse than murderers. Perhaps, he thought, as he paid the driver, it was because rape - and the associated crimes - was so intimate. They were such a flagrant abuse of power, and the victim didn't die. She - or he - lived with the horror forever.

He'd made his feelings clear to Gabriella, and she'd accepted them, but she wasn't going to change her job just for him, and nor did Troy expect her too.

He often dealt with rape victims at the hospital, and sometimes testified at Gabriella's trials. He knew a lot of the lawyers in her department, and stopped and chatted to a few of them on his way down the hall to Gabriella's office.

When he bumped into Sarah Brenner, she said, "If you're looking for Gabriella, she's in a meeting with Alex."

"Oh. Thanks Sarah."

Troy did an about-face and headed back down the hall. Alex Cooper was the head of the Sex Crimes Unit, a smart, leggy blonde in her mid-thirties. Gabriella respected and admired her, and Troy had testified in a few of her trials as well, and felt the same way.

When he reached Alex's office, he found he wasn't the only one loitering about. Mike Chapman, a Homicide detective out of the 22nd Precinct was leaning against the wall. Mike had been working with Alex for years - rumors abounded about how close they really were - and the two men had also crossed paths a number of times.

"Troy," Mike said, grinning. "Haven't seen you in ages."

"The nurses miss you something chronic over in the ER. How are you?"

"Good thanks. As usual, I'm waiting for Blondie. I take it you're waiting for Gabriella."

"Mm. I finished my shift early - thought I'd take her downstairs to Forlini's for a drink."

"I was just about to take Coop down. Why don't we go together?"

"Sure." Troy hesitated. "The women will be mad we made that decision without them."

"The women will be mad that you called them 'the women'," Gabriella said from the open doorway.

Mike was grimacing. "Sorry, Troy. She appeared before I could warn you."

"I'm used to Gabriella popping up at inopportune moments."

"Troy," Alex said, appearing behind Gabriella. As usual, the prosecutor was impeccably dressed in a red designer suit and matching shoes. "I hope you aren't here for business."

Troy shook his head. "I'm about to drag Gabriella downstairs for a drink at Forlini's."

"Mike and I are heading down there as well. Why don't we go together?" Alex suggested. Mike and Troy shared a grin. "What?"

"Nothing," Troy replied. "That sounds great."

"Good. I've got a few medical things I'd like to quiz you about. Let me just get my stuff together."

Mike rolled his eyes. "You two head on down. If she's collecting her stuff, we'll be a while. You know how you spend a third of your life waiting in line? I spend a third of my life waiting for Blondie."

"There are worse jobs in life," Gabriella replied.

There was a strange light in Mike's eyes as he answered. "Yes, there are."

Gabriella and Troy headed down the hallway to Gabriella's office, so they could collect her stuff together.

"What's the real story with those two?" Troy asked Gabriella as soon as they were out of earshot. "I mean, I've heard all the rumors..."

"Everybody's heard the rumors," Gabriella replied. "But the real story? Now that would be telling."

"Do you think people talk about us like that?"

Gabriella gave him a look, then pointed to her stomach. "People think this is your work."

"I'd like to say it was," Troy grinned.

Gabriella threw a pencil at him. "You are such an alpha male."

"And don't you forget it baby."

* * *

Gabriella and Troy sat in the bar for fifteen minutes before Alex and Mike finally arrived. As he watched them make their way through the tables, Troy narrowed his eyes.

"Ah, Brie..." he began, "Does Alex look a little flushed to you?"

Gabriella nodded. "She does."

"So what is the real story?"

"I don't know, but I'm willing to bet they're writing a new book."

"Hey guys," Alex said, sitting next to Gabriella. She was definitely flushed. "Sorry we're late."

"I'm not," Mike muttered as he sat down between Troy and Alex. He was missing a button on his shirt.

Gabriella and Troy exchanged a look.

"What would you guys like to drink?" Gabriella stood up and waited expectantly.

"Dewar's," Alex answered. When Mike didn't say anything, she elbowed the detective. "Mike?"

"Ah...Gabriella..." Mike seemed transfixed by something. "I've been pretty busy with that murder down in Alphaville. And then I took a week's holiday leave."

"About the same time that Alex did," Gabriella pointed out innocently.

Mike continued. "So, I haven't seen you for at least a month. And you were wearing a jacket before. In Alex's office."

Gabriella rolled her eyes. "Oh for God's sake. I don't have an eating disorder. I'm pregnant."

Mike looked over at Troy slyly. "Congratulations are in order then, huh?"

"Well, sure, if the kids were mine."

"Kids?" Alex asked, looking up at Gabriella with surprise. "As in plural? You're having twins?"

Gabriella smiled. Troy like to call it her 'pregnancy smile', which pissed Gabriella off no end. She liked to think she was different from other mothers-to-be, but she wasn't. Her pregnancy smile was secretive, glowing, satisfied, and self-important. No matter the discomforts of pregnancy, Gabriella was reveling in her new role.

"Yes, we're having twins."

"'We're'?" Mike repeated. "You just said the kid - kids - aren't yours."

"They aren't," Troy repeated, not bothering to elaborate.

"Mike, what do you want to drink?"

"Sam Adams," Mike replied. "But you shouldn't be doing that. I'll go get our drinks."

Troy had already received a lecture from Gabriella about people treating pregnant women like invalids. He intervened before Mike heard it as well.

"Nah, let her do it. She's mad 'coz she can't drink alcohol, so let her live vicariously through you."

Gabriella smiled appreciatively at Troy and went off to the bar.

"So, if you didn't knock her up, who did?"

"Mike!" Alex exclaimed.

"What?" Mike asked, clueless. Most detective weren't known for their tact. The work they dealt with didn't allow them that luxury.

"It's Gabriella's business. If you want to know, ask her," Troy replied. He wasn't bothered by the question; most people got around to asking, although none as frankly as Mike.

Gabriella returned to the table, bearing the drinks. As she sat, she said, "The butterflies are kicking."

"Butterflies?" Mike queried.

"That's what she calls them," Troy explained. "When they first moved they felt like butterflies."

Gabriella winced. "I think elephants is more apt term these days."

Mike spoke up. "So, have you got any ultrasound pictures?"

Gabriella's smile grew wider. "That's really sweet, Mike."

Alex rolled her eyes. "He just wants to know if he can tell who the father is from the sonogram pictures."

Gabriella shrugged. "They look like peanuts with pearl necklaces for spines."

"Those are the correct medical terms," Troy smiled.

Gabriella handed the photos over and Alex and Mike took a look. "Do you know if you're having boys or girls?" Alex asked.

"No idea," Gabriella answered. "We want it to be a surprise."

"Correction. You want it to be a surprise. I'd like to know," Troy said.

"You want to know?" Mike handed the photos back. "I think I'd want to know as well."

"As long as they have ten fingers and ten toes, that's all that matters," Alex disagreed.

Mike elbowed Alex. "You gonna go all clucky on me Coop?" Alex didn't deign to reply, so Mike continued. "Can't you just see her? Giving her summation to the jury whilst changing nappies. I tell you, the sight of Coop barefoot and pregnant..."

"Shut up," Alex finally interrupted.

Mike looked over at Gabriella, pointedly ignoring Alex. "So, show us the peanuts and pearls."

Gabriella pulled the photos out and told Alex and Mike what they were looking that. One of the detectives at the next table, who worked with Gabriella, asked to see, and then a gaggle of female prosecutors, and suddenly all of the people who were already parents were lining up to tell them stories.

Most of them assumed - without saying anything, or asking anything - that Troy was the father. He kept trying to explain that he wasn't, but that only raised more questions, so he said nothing and listened to the stories of labor that kept escalating in horror.

Gabriella shot Troy a look of desperation as Amelia Walker described the agony of her nineteen-hour labor.

"Nineteen hours is nothing," Troy said dismissively. "I once had a patient who took four days to give birth."

The table - which had grown sizably in the last two hours - fell deathly silent.

"You're serious?" Mike was looking slightly queasy.

"She was in fully-blown labor?" Alex asked.

Troy nodded, his eyes glinting. "It takes a while to deliver twenty-two children."

Gabriella groaned. "You're talking about Kristen's rabbit." She elaborated for the others. "There's a little girl, Kristen, who lives in the apartment below us. She has a pet rabbit. Nobody realized she was pregnant until she burrowed under a bed and started popping out baby rabbits. Kristen was worried, so she raced upstairs and asked Troy to have a look at them."

"And she had twenty-two babies?"

Troy nodded. "Puts having twins in perspective, huh?"

"Well, baby rabbits are a lot smaller than human babies," Mike pointed out. "My sister says it's like trying to squeeze..."

Alex covered his mouth. "Who wants another drink?" Mike nipped at her wrist. "Hey!"

"You don't normally mind," Mike said serenely.

Alex blushed. "I have no idea what you're..."

"Oh, shut up, Coop." Mike leant in and kissed her firmly to a hail of groans and cheers. Other patrons started throwing peanuts and napkins at them; whatever was readily accessible.

But Gabriella was grinning. After Mike and Alex pulled away from one another, and the noise died down, she said, "I believe I win the pool."

Troy bent towards Gabriella's stomach. "You hear that butterflies? Your Mommy's a gambler, a carouser, a disloyal friend, and a general no-good cad."

"Yep." Gabriella pinched Troy's ear. "But so is your Daddy."

Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, their colleagues and friends smiled indulgently at the pair, then started quizzing the embarrassed Alex and the grinning Mike.

Troy however, for the first time in his life, could not form a single word.

* * *

AN: Sorry it's kinda short... but I that last sentence is kinda important...because it's the first time Troy realizes that Gabi's serious about him being the twins' father figure... so thank you so much for all the reviews thus far and keep it up! 


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Not mine.

The Moments that Count: Chapter Six

Troy carefully put down his load, before collapsing into an inert and sprawling mess on the couch. "I never, ever thought babies could need so much stuff," he stated.

Gabriella put her bags down - although, at Troy's insistence, she'd been carrying very little and sat beside him. "Me too," she agreed. "Thank God your parents had your crib; that one alone cost a fortune." They looked at the old-fashioned crib that Troy had lugged up four flights of stairs.

They'd been shopping all morning in the city, and then they'd gone to the baby department at Neiman Marcus in the afternoon. They were both completely exhausted and sick of crowds, people, shop assistants and lines.

"And then there's everything else," Troy continued. "Two capsules, a changing table, two mobiles, two sets of clothes, diapers, two sets of blankets, a bath, a double pram, and later we'll need a double stroller, plus..." he ran out of breath. "Everything else," he finished. "Face it Brie. We will be able to look after a million babies with all this crap."

Gabriella turned her head and looked at him, brown hair falling about her face, one hand resting at the top of her stomach, where it customarily sat these days. "We," she repeated, in a soft voice.

"Of course we," Troy answered, sounding confused.

"I just..." she shrugged. "You don't have to be here. You don't have to be picking out a crib with me, and going to ultrasounds with me, feeling them kick with me. You don't have to read Dr. Seuss to the babies, but you do."

"I do have to do this," Troy answered. "Because I'm going to be the best uncle the world has ever seen." Very carefully, he rested his ear up against her stomach and listened. "I zink zey are 'ungry," he said, in a French accent. "Chef Troy shall whip up whatever the madam and the little ones desire."

Gabriella ran her hand through his short hair. "You don't get out of it that easily," she admonished.

"Out of what?"

"I can't ask you to commit to the babies because you'll undoubtedly meet the woman of your dreams one day soon, and you'll want to marry her and have your own children, and I don't want you to feel guilty for leaving me and the babies..."

"Gabriella," he interrupted, his voice echoing through her, deep and low, vibrating through her bones. "That's not going to happen. Whatever you and I are, whatever happens between us, I'm always going to be there for the babies. And I'm always going to be there for you, too. Don't ever doubt that."

Sighing, Gabriella softly and almost imperceptibly traced the veins on Troy's temple. "I don't want to interrupt your life, Troy."

"You are my life," he answered. "You, and, whoever's in there. I'm going to be...well, I'm going be..."

"Their Dad," Gabriella finished softly. "I said it at the bar the other night, and I meant it."

"Yes," he agreed, unable to deny it. "And we'll work out the rest later. Hungry?" he asked again, as they watched from the couch, as the sun sink below the horizon.

"Yes," she replied, realizing how hungry she was. "I feel like white chocolate...and cashews...and..." she tried to identify her craving. "Pickles."

Troy shuddered, as he stood up and headed towards the kitchen. "I don't know how you can eat that."

"I'm pregnant, that's why."

He rolled his eyes and grinned, but when he got to the kitchen, his smile fell, and he looked sightlessly out the kitchen window.

In the living room, Gabriella exhaled and closed her eyes.

* * *

They'd debated for a very long time before Troy had convinced Gabriella to turn Chad's old bedroom into the nursery. Her argument had been that the babies would wake him up during the night if they were that next-door. His argument had been that they'd wake him up anyway, because the apartment wasn't exactly large. 

For the first few weeks anyway, the twins would be in Gabriella's room, because they needed constant attention, but after about a month, and because Gabriella had finally agreed with Troy, the twins would move into Chad's old room.

They got up early on Saturday morning to paint. Troy kept refusing to let Gabriella do anything strenuous, and Gabriella kept telling Troy not to worry and to stop fussing so much, and then they started sniping about everything, until it became amusing and they both broke out laughing.

"I'm sorry," Troy apologized through his laughter. "But I am not letting you get up on a ladder, and you are definitely not painting the roof."

Gabriella tilted her head, a smile spread across her face. "Fine," she agreed. "You can break your back, Michaelangelo."

"Only if you chop off your ear."

"Nah, I'm no Van Gogh." Gabriella walked to the wall and painted something beside the window with the soft lemon color they'd chosen for the room. "This," she announced, "Is my self-portrait."

Troy laughed at the stick figure she'd drawn, with the huge, rounded belly poking out. "I don't think so," he said, coming to stand beside her. He made a few quick strokes with his brush. "This is you."

It was a woman's face with long hair and horns. "Bastard," she said. Then, suddenly, her paintbrush lashed out towards his face, and she streaked a line of lemon paint across his forehead.

"Hey!" He drew a quick zigzag on her cheek. "Now we're even, let's not do this. Okay?"

"Okay," she agreed. They looked at each other. "Not," she yelled, before she discovered that he was already painting her shirt. "Troy!" she shrieked.

Five minutes later, they were both covered in paint, and Troy had an arm hooked around her waist, trying to paint her neck, but he was laughing too hard, and he couldn't keep the brush still.

"Okay, okay, okay, stop...come on, stop..." Gabriella said, her whole body moving with laughter, her stomach muscles weak and almost painful. "Troy, we are grown adults."

"Speak for yourself. I plan on remaining same age as those two in there."

"Are you sure you're not aiming too high?" Gabriella answered, exhaling and sitting down on the floor.

"Hey, you gotta have something to get you up in the morning."

She smirked. "Mine is the pressing urge to pee."

Troy's grin was disarmingly lascivious. "Mine's my morning erection."

Gabriella covered her face in disgust, groaning. "Way, way, way too much information, Bolton." Then she dropped her hands and looked at him seriously. "Do you actually get those?"

"Come visit me tomorrow morning and you'll find out."

"Troy!"

"What?" He shrugged. "Some mornings, not all. Come on, like Chad didn't get them."

"I suppose he did," she answered. "I never asked, and he never offered. We never had sex in the morning; I had to get to work, and he was tired after staying out late. And the sex was never that good anyway."

"See, that's just too much information," Troy replied. "That's the kind of thing I don't really want to know about."

But Gabriella was rather unconcerned about discussing sex, something that Chad had always disliked. "We always talk about you and your girlfriends. And I'm sure you and Chad used to talk about it."

"We talked about me and my sex life," Troy said, tucking his hands under his head and looking up at the ceiling. "We almost never talked about you. Chad was so uptight about sex anyway...he used to groan if I used the correct words for the body parts."

"Yeah he was a bit like that."

Troy looked at her. "But it can't have been that bad...the sex."

"No, it was alright. It was better then those few flings I had in college, before I got back with Chad, because it was emotionally satisfying with him."

"But..." Troy trailed off. "Physically lacking?"

"Sometimes," she admitted. "I mean I...I'd get there in the end, but Chad was often impatient, and he didn't want to discuss it, and he didn't want to try anything new or different. It was very frustrating."

"That's why you wore so much purple!" he exclaimed, and then explained at her blank look. "It's a joke, don't worry. There was a study done about ten years ago, which showed that people who wear purple tend to be sexually frustrated."

"And what color do people who are sexually satisfied wear?"

"They wear a lot of blue. And passionate people wear a lot of red."

Gabriella twisted her head to look at him. "I think you made that up, considering the fact that you nearly always wear blue, and you haven't had sex for months."

"How would you know?"

"I would know," she answered, throwing him a look as if he were completely idiotic. "I do know. Troy, you've been spending every living, breathing second with me. I think I would know if you'd been getting any."

"Okay, so it's been a little slow lately," he granted. "But that doesn't mean a thing, Montez."

"Whatever you say, Troy. And don't call me Montez. Now, paint."

"Yes mam."

* * *

They finished the room by the middle of the following week, after a single undercoat and two coats of lemon. The skirting boards, the windowsills, and the ceiling were done in glistening eggshell white. 

There was a serious debate about furniture, but that was eventually settled, and it was all set up, including the mobiles and everything else, with the already-purchased clothing neatly folded in the drawers and nappies and lotions and all kinds of other miscellaneous items in the changing table.

"At least we're organized," Troy pointed out to Gabriella, as they stood in the middle of the room, his arm around her shoulder, admiring their handiwork. "It's got good feng shui this room."

"Since when did you believe in feng shui?" she asked incredulously.

"Since never," he replied, "But the room does feel good."

"Yeah, I guess. However, there's a certain irony in the babies sleeping in Chad's room."

"True," Troy agreed, before changing the subject. "Have you spoken to Taylor lately?"

"She rang yesterday," Gabriella informed him. "She keeps giving me advice, and she tells me the pain of labor isn't too bad. I don't believe her for a second, but some of the stuff she's told me is good. And she and Alex are coming down soon with Marcus to drop off all the stuff we're borrowing. She has to finalize the dates this week."

"Good." He tightened his grip around her. "Don't forget, Lamaze class this evening."

"Wonderful," she said sarcastically.

"I had a feeling you'd say that."

* * *

AN: I cannot thank all of you enough for the amazing reviews... and the next chapter is much longer, I promise... I'll keep writing if ya'll keep reading and reviewing :) 


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own HSM.

The Moments that Count: Chapter Seven

Gabriella's last day at the District Attorney's office was a Friday, and Troy took her out for dinner. The restaurant a few blocks over from their apartment served an eclectic, but popular mixture of Italian food, Cajun food and Indian food. None of the cuisines were amalgamated; dishes from each culture were on the menu.

She wore a black knit dress, in a baby doll style, which fell easily over her stomach. Now nearly seven and half months pregnant, Gabriella's small frame was beginning to truly put on weight. She'd gained slowly over the first six months, a little underweight than average. Considering that she was carrying twins, she was really beginning to look heavy, and was sitting very high.

"Reservation for two," Troy told the waiter. "Bolton."

"Ah, yes, sir. You're over here by the window." The young man led them in that direction, and he pulled Gabriella's chair out for her. "There you are ma'am."

"Thank you," Gabriella smiled. Sitting down and getting up were both starting to get difficult for Gabriella, and Troy helped her as subtly as he could. "Thanks, Troy," she smiled.

"I'm Kent," their waiter informed them. "Now," Kent said, "What can I get you to drink?"

"Water for me," Gabriella answered, and Troy realized that she had to sit a good fifteen inches from the table, because her stomach didn't fit underneath it.

"And I'll have some water too," Troy added.

"Don't you want some wine?" Gabriella asked him.

"No," he shook his head. "If you're having water, I'll have water too."

Kent smiled. "Two waters coming right up."

By the time their dinner arrived, the restaurant was full, bursting with couples, families, friends, and large groups from work relaxing after a long week. Gabriella's gnocchi with carbonara sauce was huge, whilst Troy's gumbo smelt absolutely divine.

Gabriella sighed when she was halfway through her meal. "Now that I'm out of work Troy, I think I might just go insane."

He smiled sympathetically. "Only another month and a half to go Gabriella. You've made it this far."

"I suppose. But now I'll have nothing to do all day but watch really bad daytime television, eat cereal from the box, and call you and complain about everything."

He rolled his eyes at the idea. "Feel free to call me whenever you have the need, but I'm sure you'll be fine. You can read all those books you haven't got around to, and clean out your cupboard. You could even do some drawing or painting again."

"That's fine for you to say," she grumbled, spearing a piece of spongy gnocchi. "You're not the one having a baby."

"Seriously Brie, you'll be just fine. After all, there's really only one way to end this thing, and that's wait one and a half months, and have them."

"True." She was about to say something else, when she felt a shadow beside her. Gabriella looked up to see a woman standing beside her. "Can I help you?"

The woman was a little older then Gabriella, with long dark blonde hair, a pointy chin, and a crooked, but quaint nose. "Uh...I was..." she trailed away, her voice unmistakably branding her from the South. "This is going to sound really stupid." Gabriella didn't say anything, but smiled encouragingly. "Well, my husband I are trying to have a child."

"That's really nice," Gabriella said. "Good luck."

"I...we just moved to New York," the woman continued. "We actually come from Savannah." She tucked a stray lock of her dark blonde hair behind her ear. "And, well, back home, it's really good luck to touch the stomach of a woman who's pregnant." Gabriella stared at her. "So can I? Touch your..." she trailed away. "I'm sorry."

"I..." Gabriella looked bemused and very surprised. "Well, sure. Sure you can. Here..." Gabriella reached out and placed the woman's hand on her rounded stomach.

"Thank you." The woman's fingers splayed out. "Do you know what you're having?"

"Twins," Troy told her. "But we don't know their sex."

"Twins! Wow! You must be so happy."

"We are," Gabriella answered, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "How long have you and your husband been married?"

"Four years. What about you two?"

Troy stared at the blonde woman. "Us? We're...we're not married. We're not together."

"Oh." The woman looked surprised. "I...I just assumed. You looked so good together, and...I...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"That's okay," Gabriella reassured her.

"Well...thank you," the woman smiled, before moving away, and returning to her table over the other side of the room.

Gabriella turned to look at Troy with raised eyebrows. "That's one of the weirder experiences of my life."

"It's a nice custom," Troy told her. "And you know what it's like...people always want to put their hands on your stomach...it happens all the time when we're out."

"Yeah, but she had the courtesy to ask," Gabriella pointed out. She hesitated, obviously wanting to say something. "Troy?"

"Yes Ella."

"We haven't really talked about baby names yet, have we?"

"Well," Troy said, an expression of confusion marking his face, "That's because it's your decision."

"No it's not. It's your decision too."

He shook his head. "I'm happy to share a lot of things, but deciding on their names...that's solely your choice Gabriella."

"But Troy..."

"But nothing," he interrupted. "I'd be saying the same thing even if they were my children. In my family, if the child is a boy the father names it, if it's a girl, the mother names it. So...my father named me, and my mother named Stella, Angie and Grace."

Gabriella's brow furrowed. "Well, if they're boys, or one of them is a boy, would you name it?"

"You're having girls," he said in a confident voice.

"Troy! Did you look? We agreed that we weren't going to ask the doctor what sex they were. You peeked didn't you? You looked! You're incorrigible. I can't believe you!"

"I didn't look," Troy reassured her. "And thanks for your trust in me, by the way. But you're carrying high; and you know the old wife's tale: if it's high, it's girls. If it's low, it's a boy."

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you sure you didn't look?"

"Very sure," he sighed with patience. "So the question is irrelevant. They're girls, and you'll name them. Now...my opinion on the names? That's an entirely different matter."

"I've given it absolutely no thought. I'll have to start soon," Gabriella decided, before she tilted her head. "Your father really named you?"

"Yeah. Troy was my Dad's best friend in high school. He died, of cancer before I was born. My father occasionally surprises me with his compassion."

"Well," Gabriella said, "You never surprise me with yours."

"Neither do you."

* * *

When Troy came home at seven o'clock a week later and found Gabriella bawling her eyes out, her sobs loud and broken, his immediate thought was that something had happened to the twins.

"What's wrong?" he asked in a panicky voice, dropping his briefcase, and crossing to the couch in two strides.

"It's so sad," she said, wiping her eyes with a tissue, staring at the TV.

Troy turned his attention to what she was watching. Then he knew that her hormones were sending her insane. Richard Gere, brandishing a bunch of roses and an umbrella, was sanding in a stairwell, looking up at Julia Roberts. "_Pretty Woman_, Brie?"

"I know. He loves her. She loves him…" she trailed off, tears running down her face.

"They end up together…he saves her from a life of prostitution, she saves him from a life of loneliness, they sail off into the sunset…I'm missing the sad bit." He looked at her curiously. "It's the Cinderella story with a limo and sex on a piano."

Her weeping grew louder, and she buried her face in his chest. "It's just so sad…"

"Okay, honey," he agreed, placating her. "It's a tragedy. We'll watch _Romeo and Juliet_…that'll cheer you up."

"You're right," she said, still weepy. "But I already watched that this morning." She pulled away from him, and burst into fresh sobs.

"What now?" he asked in an eternally patient voice.

"Look," she said. He followed her line of sight, through her bedroom door, but all he could see were a bunch of pink roses he'd bought her yesterday, sitting in their vase.

"The roses?" he guessed.

"Yes." She wailed like a banshee.

After a moment of thought, Troy turned _Pretty Woman_ off, and led Gabriella into her bedroom, tucking her in and promising he'd get rid of the roses.

He moved them into his bedroom.

* * *

He was doing some reading in the living room a few hours later when Gabriella's voice broke through the apartment.

"Troy!" she yelled. "Troy, where the hell are you?"

"In the living room," he called back warily, wondering what curve of the mood swing he'd caught her in now, and whether he was in any physical danger. Pregnant women were freakishly strong.

She stormed into the living room from her bedroom, though, being almost eight months pregnant with twins made storming hard, and it ended up looking more akin to aggravated waddling. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

Troy looked at her. "I'm reading about the latest developments in trauma treatment for thoracic injuries."

"How could you!" she shrieked. Two seconds later, she picked up the remote control and threw it at him. Troy ducked, and ended up falling off the couch, hitting the ground with a thud. She stood over him. "You low-life scum."

"What I have done?"

"What have you done?" she repeated. "You should know. I don't know why I ever trusted you. You Indian-giver."

He sat up, and using the coffee table, stood. "Indian-giver…what are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb with me."

"I'm not!" he defended. "I don't know what you're talking about. Why don't you just tell me?"

"Where are my roses?" Gabriella yelled. "Huh? What have you done with them, you creep?"

Troy closed his eyes, willing patience, before putting the article down, going to his bedroom, and returning with the roses. "Here." He held them out to her.

She glared at him, and accepted them. "And what were they doing in your bedroom? Why did you move them?"

"You asked me to," Troy informed her.

"I did not!"

He kept his voice soft. "You did, Gabriella."

"No, I did not. I think I would remember if I asked you to move my roses, don't you? And why would I ask you to move them?"

"Because…" he trailed away, knowing it was a lost cause. "You're right…I had no reason to move them, and I apologize profusely."

"I should think so." She pivoted and waddled back to her bedroom, closing the door. Within minutes, she was asleep again.

Troy picked up his article, and continued on, wondering how he was going to make it through another month of this.

* * *

When Gabriella emerged from her bedroom once more, about two hours later, Troy wondered what it was now. She sat beside him on the couch, and he prepared himself for the next assault of tears or anger.

"I'm sorry Troy," she said. "I've been acting a little strange, haven't I?"

"You could put it that way," he replied. "But there are allowances, Ella. You have some weird-ass hormones running around in there." He laid a hand on her stomach, feeling the bump where her belly button had popped out from pressure.

"Weird-ass? This from the doctor." She smiled tiredly. "I'll try not to act so strangely, and I apologize for crying all over you and then yelling at you about the roses."

"I do understand."

"You're so patient with me," Gabriella sighed, covering his hand with her own. "I'm scared," she said suddenly.

"Of what?"

"Giving birth. Labor…everything after that. I don't know how to look after a baby, let alone two of them. I'm scared that I won't be a good mother, that I'll do something wrong and hurt them, or that something will go wrong during labor, or that…"

"Gabriella," he interrupted her, taking her other hand in his, and gently rubbing across her knuckles with his thumb. "Every mother whose baby I've delivered has been frightened. But modern medicine today means that very little – extraordinarily little – can go wrong. A tiny percentage of women have problems with labor, and they usually involve women who've had difficult pregnancies, or pre-existing problems. You've had a very healthy pregnancy, considering you're carrying twins. Labor will be fine. I'll be there, and Dr. Edwards…she's one of the best, Gabriella."

"You can't promise me it'll be perfectly fine," Gabriella pointed out. "You don't know that."

"No, I don't know for sure," Troy agreed. "But I can promise you that Dr. Edwards and I are going to do everything in our power to make sure it's fine." There was silence, and he continued. "As for the rest? You'll be a wonderful mother, because if you weren't scared, I'd wonder. I know it's a big responsibility, and it's scary, but the truth is, all you can do is love your children and try to teach them that loving other people is more important than anything else. And if you do that, nothing will go wrong. There is no doubt in my mind," he said, catching her eyes and holding to them, "That you will love your children to death. And that you will be an amazing mother."

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do." He kissed her wrist gently. "I do know that for sure. Because you know how important the little things are and how important the big things are- you know how to love. That'll make you a better Mom than most other women."

She smiled, and leaned forward gently to kiss him softly.

* * *

AN: Thank you so much once again... This chapter was a little longer and lets just say in the next few chapters things are going to get a little crowded :) Read and Review! 


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own HSM. Too bad, huh?

The Moments that Count: Chapter Eight

Monday night was quiet. They ate a dinner of Chicken Surprise with spinach, exchanged little conversation, watched some tedious television, before Gabriella, tired, bored and cranky, and in possession of a new respect for Taylor, went to bed early.

Troy was looking at some files Carly and Dave had worked on today, checking to see that they were on the right track. As a teaching hospital, St. Vincent's had to make sure their students were doing the right thing.

Carly and Dave were new interns from NYU, and had been in the ER a week. Carly had a good beside manner, and took instructions well, but Dave made some pretty impressive diagnoses and didn't like being told what to do.

They were also incredibly attracted to each other, which was no end of amusement for the ER staff. The nurses had already started the standard pot over when they'd end up sleeping together.

When it got to ten-thirty, he packed the files up, barely able to keep his eyes open. He still had to do the dishes, and was heading towards the kitchen when he heard something from Gabriella's room. Being so close to her due date – she was only two and a half weeks away – any noise could mean something.

He opened the door, adjusting his eyes to the dark. He discerned Gabriella immediately; she was a gravid shape under the blankets, her dark hair flailing across the pillow.

Her stomach was so heavy that she couldn't lie on her back anymore; the pressure was too much on her organs, and instead, she lay on her right side. One hand rested on her stomach; the other was tucked underneath her cheek, making her look like a little girl.

But more than that, she was having a nightmare.

"I…no…" she moaned. "Come back…please, I…" Her head tossed. "Don't let them…" she trailed away, tears tracking down her face.

He sat at the small of her back, and carefully touched her shoulder, not wanting to startle her. She awoke suddenly, and tried to sit up, but he kept his hand on her shoulder. "It's okay Gabriella. It's okay. You were having a nightmare."

"I…I…" her voice was beginning to lose its hysterical tone. "Where are you?"

"I'm here," he answered, running a hand up and down her spine. "I'm right here."

"No, I have to see your face…where…come here…" he crossed around the other side of the bed and lay down beside her, looking her in the eyes.

"It's okay. It was just a bad dream."

"I thought…I dreamt…that someone came and took you, and they took the babies, and I couldn't save…" she trailed off. "I…"

"It was just a dream. I'm not going anywhere, and the twins aren't going anywhere for another two and half weeks yet."

"But it was so real." Her eyes sparkled with fear in the darkness.

"Nobody's going anywhere," he reassured her, one hand running up and down her spine again, the other smoothing her hair down. He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the forehead. "Why don't you try and go back to sleep?"

"You'll stay?" She usually wasn't so weak, but he understood that she was scared and didn't want to admit to it.

"Of course," he answered, shifting closer to her. "I'll stay until you fall asleep."

But he lied, because he stayed the night, and didn't leave until he departed for work at six that morning.

* * *

Gabriella waddled into the kitchen at about nine-thirty the next morning, and found a message from Troy on the board near the fridge.

Gabriella – I'll be home at about six tonight, unless something happens at work. I'll bring dinner; call if you need anything at all. Love Troy. P.S. – I checked the TV guide and _Transformers_ is on at noon! Knock yourself out! And remember it's action flick – you're not supposed to cry.

Gabriella rubbed her eyes and tried to work out what today was. It was a Wednesday, May 4th actually, and the weather was beginning to grown warmer as the summer approached. People were predicting it'd be a scorcher, and she was glad she wouldn't be pregnant during the peak of the heat.

She felt like Taylor had said she would in the last weeks of her pregnancy; bloated, with sore feet, an aching back, and indigestion; she had a pressing desire to pee all the time, she had trouble remembering things, and everything made her grumpy. She was constantly tired, it took her forever to do even the simplest things, she couldn't see her own feet, she couldn't control her hormones, and she was frightened to death of being a mother.

She couldn't decide which was worse: feeling like a bowling ball or having all the coordination of an elephant doing jazz ballet.

As she mulled over what to eat for breakfast, Gabriella looked down at her hands and realized they were a little more swollen then usual. The flesh was puffy, as if she were retaining too much fluid. The pain in her back and stomach that she'd explained away as the last few days of pregnancy suddenly seemed to have a greater meaning.

"I…" she trailed away. Living with a doctor meant that Gabriella always had someone to check with when something unusual happened. It also meant that Troy had explained, in depth, the possible risks that accompanied pregnancy.

Pre-eclampsia was something she already knew about anyway. Running quickly through the symptoms in her head, Gabriella waddled back to her bedroom to collect her coat. She didn't even bother to get out of her pajamas.

Fifteen long minutes later, she was down the stairs, out onto the street, and in a cab heading towards St. Vincent's Hospital.

* * *

At 30th street, they somehow got entangled in a traffic jam. Traffic was being diverted from 10th, where it bisected 30th, and the cab driver could do very little but wait and make his way through. Taking an alternative route was pointless, because they would have ended up in a bigger jam, along with the rest of the traffic trying to navigate their way through the maze of one way streets in Hell's Kitchen.

Tempers flared, horns honked, the smell of petrol filled the air and drivers mimed and screeched various affronts at each other, and pedestrians and lookers-on laughed. No other city did traffic jams with quite the same verve, spirit, chaos and complexity as New York City.

Above them, the old railway tracks wended their way through various buildings that surrounded them. Gabriella had always been fascinated by this phenomenon; all of Hell's Kitchen and Death Avenue fascinated her. The tracks hadn't been used for decades; not since the thirties and forties, when trains went screaming through the place. In the sixties and seventies, when people had started building around the area, and the place had lost its stigma as the center for crime in New York, the government had given permission to build around the tracks, so that they quite literally went through some of the buildings.

These days, most of the buildings around this area were avant-garde art galleries, with bizarre modern art that Gabriella would never understand, no matter how much she loved art. For Gabriella, some string tied together would never replace Monet's water lilies.

She suffered patiently through the traffic jam until they were nearly at 25th street, before she snapped and decided she could walk the rest of the way no matter how pregnant she was. Gabriella had constantly reiterated to Troy that pregnancy did not mean invalidism.

"Look, thanks," she said, catching the cab driver's eyes, "But I'll walk the rest of the way."

"Are you sure?" Her driver looked at her with a worried expression, and Gabriella was touched. Most of the cab drivers in New York were hell-bent on getting their clients to their destination as fast as they possibly could, without any consideration for their safety. More than that, they wanted their fare, and very few of them ever illustrated concern for the people they picked up and dropped off.

"Yes…yes, I am. But thank you very much for asking. That's very kind of you." She added nearly double the normal tip to the fare, before making her way through the traffic onto the sidewalk and heading towards St. Vincent's hospital.

Three minutes later, Gabriella realized that she didn't have pre-eclampsia, and that the pain in her stomach and back was completely unrelated to any other problem.

Unless labor counted.

Because Gabriella's waters chose that opportune moment to break.

"Well that's fucking great," she said, throwing her arms up in the air, before the first contraction stabbed through her. "And that's even better."

* * *

AN: Here come the twins... get ready! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I appreciate it infinitley! Keep it up! 


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own HSM.

The Moments that Count: Chapter Nine

Charlotte Maria Jewel Francis, otherwise known as Carly, had reached the point in her shift where she was beginning to wonder why she'd ever decided to become a doctor. And, more to the point, why she'd ever wanted to rotate through the ER. Of course, she then berated herself for choosing to work at St. Vincent's, and she wondered if she would ever stop feeling tired.

But, she couldn't take a break yet. She had to check on Mrs. O'Connor, a patient who had come in complaining of severe chest pains, which were most likely a result of Mrs. O'Connor's angina.

Pushing open the heavy door to room two, Carly pasted on her best smile, and picked up the chart on the end of the bed. "Are you still having trouble breathing Mrs. O'Connor?"

She shook her head, a pleasantly drug-induced expression written across her wrinkled face. "Not at all, dear."

"Good. The nitroglycerin and the morphine are working. Were just waiting on the rest of your test results, Mrs. O'Connor, and when I get them back, well find out what's wrong with you."

"Thank you very much, Dr. Francis."

Carly smiled at her again, before turning to Hilary, the nurse. "She's on five milligrams of morphine and seven of nitro. I'd like to cut the nitro back to five and the morphine back to four."

Hilary nodded. "Sure thing, Dr. Francis. Anything else?"

"No," Carly answered. "I'll be back to check on her in about half an hour. The lab is taking forever."

"They always do. They're the lab." Hilary grinned. "Dr. Gibbs was in here before. Something about a fascinoma in curtain four." Hilary's forehead wrinkled. "I've never heard of a fascinoma."

Carly rolled her eyes. "Its just doctor slang for a fascinating case. I'm too tired to go and find out what Alex considers a fascinating case. He's a podiatry resident for Gods sake. Feet?"

Mrs. O'Connor spoke up. "Dr. Francis, dear? Why are you changing my medication?"

"Well, Mrs. O'Connor, higher dosages of morphine and nitroglycerin are good to relieve the pain quickly, but if the dosage remains too high for longer then about an hour, it can cause low blood pressure, which would cause more heart problems."

Mrs. O'Connor nodded and drifted back into oblivion. Carly made a note on the chart, and went back out into the noisy hall. A few family members were waiting anxiously for a doctor; one of the hospital janitors was cleaning up some vomit; Vera, the head nurse was re-stocking the medical supplies; a phone bleated incessantly; an ambulance pulled up outside; two men were yelling at each other in the middle of the corridor; Dr. Andiron and his student were playing basketball in the lounge, and a little kid was screeching in the peds room.

It was a very normal shift.

Carly returned to the desk, tiredly placing Mrs. O'Connor's chart in the current rack, before falling into the wheelchair that Dave Farley had just vacated. Or not vacated, she realized, when an undignified and unmanly squawk greeted her seconds after she sat, and she was suddenly a tangle of sharp elbows, knees, stethoscopes, and complete and total lack of balance.

"Dave!" she exclaimed. Carly tried to spring up, but discovered that she and the other second-year intern, Dave, were no longer in the wheelchair, but were now lying on the floor, in front of the admin desk. More to the point, he was lying on top of her, pinning her to the cold linoleum floor with his weight, her legs trapped between his, her hips angled up into his, and her mouth near his neck.

"Carly." Dave remained still, winded and too surprised to really do anything. Carly looked up, and saw a large collection of nurses looking down on them with unbridled and knowing amusement. And then, to her right, appeared a familiar, stern face.

Dave realized who it was at the same time as her. "Dr. Isaac," the two interns spoke in unison. Dave hurriedly jumped to his feet, his elbow sticking into her hip as he moved. Carly winced.

"Sorry, Car," Dave said, quite literally picking her up, hands under her armpits, placing her on her feet and making sure she had her balance before letting go. "Dr. Isaac, Carly and I were-"

"Doesn't matter what you were doing," Dr. Isaac said, her blue eyes icy. "I have so far overlooked your outrageously unprofessional behavior. But the fact of the matter remains, Dr. Francis, Dr. Farley, that we simply cannot have our interns consorting in such a manner."

"Dr. Isaac," Carly said in a contrite voice. "It was an accident. I thought that Dr. Farley had vacated the wheelchair, but he hadn't, and you caught us before we could pick ourselves up and"

"What were you doing with the wheelchair in the first place? You know those are only supposed to be used for patients." Andrea Isaac's eyes grew flintier. "But I'm not talking about this single incident. I'm talking about the many incidents that we've all seen about the ward. If you wish for me to put it bluntly, hospital policy does not allow for interns to sleep together."

Carly and Dave's jaws simultaneously dropped open. "I-what-we-I" Carly and Dave were rendered speechless.

"Dr. Isaac," Dave said, recovering first, because he was smooth and suave and could usually bullshit his way out of anything. "Car and I-"

"Aren't sleeping together," said a voice from behind Dr. Isaac. Carly and Dave both sighed with relief when they realized who it was. "Really Andrea," the man continued, "Anybody could tell you that they aren't. There's too much tension. The second you get between the sheets you loose that delicious electricity."

"Really, Dr. Bolton, and you base that on the numerous affairs you've had with nurses and other doctors in this hospital?" Dr. Isaac's mouth tightened.

"Yes," Troy replied, with a grin. "Now, Dave, there's a patient in curtain three who needs a medical history, and there's a patient complaining of stomach cramps in room one that you can attend to Carly."

"Yes Dr. Bolton," the two replied, rushing off to their separate rooms, nearly tripping over each other again, and stopping halfway to trade their stethoscopes, which had somehow been swapped when they'd been tangled up together.

"Dr. Bolton!" It was Vera, the head nurse, bearing a manila folder from radiology. "That V/Q scan you ordered for Lisa Barnes is back." She handed it to him.

He pulled the film out, and held it up to the light, knowing what he was looking for. Troy then nodded; the scan confirmed his diagnosis. "Okay, she's got a pulmonary embolism in the left lung. Its not terribly big, so we should be able to dissolve it with drugs." He turned to Vera. "Get her started on ten mils an hour streptokinase to dissolve the blood clot, with five mils an hour dilantin, so she doesn't seize."

"Sure," Vera answered, turning in the direction of room six.

"Wait." Troy's brow was furrowed in deep thought. "Lower her morphine dosage." Vera nodded and disappeared.

"Why do that?" asked Dave curiously, as he returned from curtain three.

Troy signed off on a chart. "Morphine and streptokinase used together in high dosages can sometimes cause disseminated intravascular coagulation. Know what that is?"

"Yeah, DIC. The blood doesn't clot. Its fatal."

"Mm-hmm. That's why I lowered her morphine dosage, and Ill have to monitor her urine output, to make sure she's clotting."

Dave headed towards the lounge, whilst Troy made some notes on Lisa Barnes' chart, knowing that Andrea was waiting, icy and furious, for him to say something. "You know that they aren't sleeping together Andrea," he finally said, turning around to look at her. "I don't like having my authority so blatantly undermined in front of staff like that, Troy. I am-"

"A doctor," Troy interrupted. "You aren't an attending, you aren't Chief of the ER, and you are nothing more than a senior resident. It isn't your place to discipline interns especially considering that neither Dave, nor Carly are under your supervision, but in fact, are under mine."

"You," Andrea answered in an imperious tone, "Are only a second-year resident, and I hold a greater position in hierarchy of this hospital."

Troy raised an eyebrow at her. "But not in the popularity stakes," he replied bitingly, before he walked off.

* * *

Natalie, the clerk manning the front desk for the shift, watched Andrea Isaac storm off into the direction of curtain two, her lab coat flying behind her rather forebodingly. Breaking out in a grin at Troy's comment, she watched the said doctor stride easily to room one, where he observed Carly order a full work-up for the guy with stomach cramps.

Picking up the wheelchair, and wheeling it back to where it was usually kept, Natalie returned to her work: ordering tests, answering the phones, writing the board up, and organizing anything else the doctors and nurses decided they needed, 'not now, but yesterday, dammit!'

Around her, the busy ER flowed seamlessly. There was no attending on shift at the moment, though Dr. Greg was due on in a few hours. Andrea and Troy handled the two GSWs, the drug overdose, and Troy performed an emergency appendectomy, earning him the grudging respect of the surgical consult, Dr. Eyre, who arrived breathless from his golf game, attempting to look innocent.

Midday came and went, and at one-thirty, Troy dumped one of the charts on the desk. "I'm going to get some sleep," he said, looking around at the virtually empty ER. "I'll be in room five. Wake me if you need me."

Natalie nodded, wondering how he managed such hectic hours; he'd arrived at five that morning, working constantly, organizing the medical students, assisting Andrea, taking care of his own patients, and doing all the other considerate things that made him a better doctor than anyone else in the ER.

"Hey Nat," he called, as he headed down the hall to room five, "Go grab some lunch. The nurses can cover for you for half-an-hour." Nat was about to shake her head in protest, but then she realized she was starving.

"Rita," she said, catching the attention of one of the nurses. "I'm off to poison myself with some of the cafeteria food. Cover for me."

"Sure thing, Nat," Rita answered, sounding harassed. "Deb can do it." Deb was one of the new trainee nurses, and had only been working at St. Vincent's for two weeks.

"See you in thirty."

Nat pressed the button for the lift as she listened to Carly and Dave in the lounge, drinking coffee, sharing Dave's curry, and bemoaning how exhausted they were. Natalie tried to recall what the office pot on when Carly and Dave would sleep together was.

From memory, it was about three hundred dollars.

With a smile, she pressed for the fourth floor.

* * *

Deb was rewriting the board in her neat, squiggly writing, when the front doors swung upon. Designed for gurneys traveling at full speed, built to accommodate three or four people walking through the frame at the same time, and looking more like something out of an abattoir than hospital, the swinging doors slammed back against the walls.

Deb looked for the EMTs and the gurney wondering why they hadn't radioed, but standing in the doorway was a petite, young woman. She was also, Deb realized, heavily pregnant. And more importantly, she was in labor.

The woman strode forward, but broke abruptly in mid-stride. Her face tightened, and she sucked her cheeks in, not making a sound.

One hand holding onto, and probably supporting her extended stomach, the woman waited out the contraction, whilst Deb wondered exactly what she should be doing. The young trainee nurse watched with equal fascination and revulsion as the woman's contraction passed and she straightened.

"Excuse me," Deb ventured timidly as the woman approached the desk, with slow, even steps. "Are you alright, maam?"

Violent eyes flashed. "What do you think? I'm just doing this for dramatic effect? For Christs sake! And who are you?"

"Im Deb."

The woman braced herself against the desk, one hand at the small of her back, the other one white from tightly gripping the edge of the counter. "Jesus Christ" she exhaled. The contraction passed, and the woman looked back up, eyes still glistening and violent. "It would be just my luck to get the new girl. I need a doctor, Deb. In case you hadn't noticed- I'm in labor here."

Deb flew towards the lounge, where Carly and Dave were finishing off their lunch.

"Lady" she said. "Labor- baby- coming"

Dave and Carly managed to decipher what she was saying, both interns jumping to their feet and racing out to the desk. The woman was in the middle of another protracted contraction, bent nearly double as the intensity increased, sending stabbing pains down her back and stomach, and across her hips.

"Jesus Christ," she said again, breathless, eyes wide and white with the pain. Carly and Dave braced her and called for a gurney. Seconds later, she was on the gurney, being wheeled towards emergency one.

"Can you tell me your name?" Carly asked.

"I'm in labor! I'm not stupid," the woman said, voice tinged with pain, watching the people around her flying around, collecting things, hooking up an IV, and attaching monitors to her and her stomach.

"BP and pulse a little high," called out a nurse with curly blonde hair. "129/80, and 90 beats per minute."

"Probably just the stress," Carly deduced. "Get a fetal heart monitor in here," she then added.

"Just my luck," the woman growled. "More goddamn strangers. I- God, I, oh, oh, oh," she panted, trying to do her breathing exercises. "What the hell was that?"

"A contraction maam'," Dave informed her from the base of the gurney, where he was pushing her knees up and apart, holding her feet in place as she tried to move. "She's only six centimeters dilated," he called out.

"What are you doing down there?" she demanded, eyes a dark, intense color. Carly and Dave exchanged a grin; they had a live, kicking, and passionate one here. "Where the-" she broke off again, clutching hold of the sheet. This time, though, she didn't make a sound, wearing a brave and determined face.

Carly, who had seen quite a few women in labor, realized in that instant, that they didn't just have a live, kicking and passionate patient; they had an incredibly brave patient.

"That was another contraction," Dave informed her when she started breathing again and let go of the sheets.

"I know that!" the woman managed to get out through her gritted teeth, riding the aftershock of the contraction, still trying to maintain her breathing exercises. Her hair was beginning to stick to her forehead.

A nurse was pulling her dress off and exchanging it for a gown that was left tucked up over her hips. A sheet was placed over her raised knees.

"How many weeks along are you, maam?" Carly asked her.

"Thirty-three and a bit," was the belabored answer.

"She's prem.," Carly announced loudly.

"Her contractions are only four minutes apart and she's not fully dilated. Still at six centimeters," Dave informed Carly.

"The baby's heart rate is just on a hundred," Rita called out loudly, across the noise of an MVA in emergency two; Dr. Isaac, Dr. Andiron and three nurses were cracking the guys chest, and trying to revive him.

"Page the OB upstairs, and ask for whoever's on call. Tell them she's prem., and there are few complications," Carly said. "And-"

"What complications?" the woman demanded.

"Nothing, maam," Dave placated.

"Don't you nothing me," she snapped. "What complications?"

"We're just a little worried at how quickly your contractions are coming, considering that you're not very dilated. You could do some damage to your uterus, but there's a very small chance of that occurring."

"Damage?" Her eyes grew wider. "Where's Troy?" The woman looked around wildly. "I'm going to shoot him. I'm-"

"Troy?" Carly and Dave were staring at her. "Troy, Dr. Bolton. He's an ER doctor"

"I know that," the woman said with remarkable patience, eyes biting and angry. "I'm asking where he is."

"I..." Dave and Carly exchanged a look of confusion. "I don't know," Carly said. "Rita, can you find Dr. Bolton?"

"He's in room five," Deb said quietly and calmly, from the corner of the room, where she stood observing what was going on. "I'll go and get him." She stood and left swiftly, disappearing down the hall.

"I really need to push," the woman gasped, twisting her body in agony.

"NO!" Dave and Carly exclaimed at the same time.

"Do not push, maam," Dave said in a stern voice. "You are not dilated enough to push."

"But I really need to push!" she repeated. "You try sitting here with a watermelon ready to come out into the world and tell me I can't push."

"I..." Rita trailed away, sounding surprised. "I've got a second heart rate on the fetal monitor."

"Twins," the woman said, as if it were something everybody knew. "Didn't I tell you?"

She screwed her face up in pain again. "You, boy, what's your name?" She was looking at Dave.

"I'm Dave," he answered cautiously.

"Well, Da-ave," she said, splitting the word in pain, "This before you, is the number one reason why you should always, always, under any circumstances, use protection. Do not ever do this to the woman you love! Understand me?"

"I..." he was interrupted by another contraction, as the woman arched her back.

"I have to push," she repeated. "I-"

"DON'T!" Carly and Dave looked at her with alarm.

"Where is Troy?"

The doors to emergency one flew open at her words. "I'm here." He looked at her with concern. "Gabriella, sweetheart," he said, striding to her side.

"Don't you sweetheart me," she groaned, gripping his hand in hers. He didn't even register the pressure. "I'm going to kill you!"

"But I didn't-"

"I don't care if you didn't do anything. It's still all your fault!" Gabriella bit her lip, and was overwhelmed by another contraction.

This time, Troy's eyes grew wide at the pain she induced on his hand.

"That," Gabriella said, with infinite satisfaction written across her face, "Is only a tenth of what I am feeling."

* * *

AN: So this one was a little longer. And Carly and Dave will be playing a pretty integral part of the next few chapters so get ready... Thanks again for all of the amazing reviews, keep it up! 


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Not Mine

The Moments that Count: Chapter Ten

Gabriella had to relinquish Troy's hand because he had to find out why she wasn't dilating in accordance with her contractions. Desperate for something to hold onto, Gabriella latched onto Carly, the young blonde woman, who, sort of seemed to know what she was doing.

"Is," Carly wondered how to phrase the rather delicate question politely. "Is Dr. Bolton-"

"No," Gabriella said, brow shiny, her legs raised. "He's not, thank God. I wouldn't wish that on any baby, let alone mine."

"I heard that," Troy called.

"Good!"

"Do you want me to call the father?" Carly continued.

Troy looked up sharply from where he stood. "Carly, why don't you come down here and-"

Gabriella impatiently interrupted him. "For Gods sake, Troy. Carly, you don't need to call the father, because the father has chosen not to be here, and he's going to remain that way."

Carly looked stricken. "I-" she didn't know what to say or how to respond, but before she could say anything, Gabriella was speaking again.

She looked down at Troy with slanted brown eyes. "Don't you dare get any ideas down there, Troy," she snapped at him.

"Me, Montez?" He made an expression of mock-horror and offence. "You know me better then that." He grinned lasciviously. "I've already got ideas."

"Now is not the time to be making sexual innuendoes."

"You're right," he agreed.

Gabriella refocused on him. "What are you doing down there anyway?"

"I'm watching the Knicks game, Gabriella," he replied flippantly. "And mixing myself a martini, shaken, not stirred."

"Now is not the time to be flippant with me," Gabriella warned.

"Sorry, I forgot that you've been homicidal for the past two weeks." He looked up at her. "What do you think I'm doing down here? I'm being a doctor, and I've got the degree to prove it. You just go back to being a woman in labor."

The brunette grimaced, and felt the ripples of another impeding contraction. "I really hate you Troy."

"Why don't you channel that anger into dealing with your contractions, Brie?" he suggested, pulling on gloves and bending over, his head disappearing from view.

"I…" she trailed away as the contraction began, again stoically refusing to make a sound. But she gripped Carlys hand a little tighter. "Why cant I push?" she asked Troy petulantly, in a demanding tone of voice. "And don't think this is going to be a regular occurrence. This is the one and only time that you get to see my-"

Troy's head popped back up. "Sweetheart, there are other people in the room. They don't need to know about it." He pulled his gloves off and tossed them towards the waste contamination trolley.

Gabriella relaxed her grip on Carly's hand and looked around. "Where did Dave disappear to?"

"A trauma came in," Carly answered her, gesturing to the room next door. Emergency one and emergency two were adjoined by another set of swinging doors, and Gabriella could see Dave busily pumping away at the patients chest, performing CPR as the machines went crazy.

"Brie." Troy was back by her side and he gripped her hand in his, holding a cold washcloth in the other hand.

"What's wrong Troy? Dave said I was dilated, and then he said I couldn't push" she looked at her stomach with chagrin. "Okay, you two, I get the point."

Troy smiled and smoothed her hair away from her face, wiping the sweat from her brow with the washcloth. "You're being so brave."

"Yeah, well," she muttered darkly, "The Lamaze classes hardly prepare me for how painful it was going to be. And nobody ever said it was this undignified."

He smiled and smoothed her hair back again, putting the washcloth down on her forehead. "There's nothing wrong," he told her reassuringly in a soft voice. "When your waters broke, they didn't quite break the membrane of the amniotic sac. That's why you weren't dilating."

"Well" she looked confused. "What happens now? What do we do?"

"I just broke the membrane," Troy informed her.

"You what?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Gabriella, I had to put my hand in the most sacred of places. Think of me as a doctor instead of your best friend."

Gabriella threw him a dirty look. "If you breathe a word of this to anybody…"

"I know, I know, you'll have to have your wicked way with me, and I'll have to borrow handcuffs."

"I am not into kinky," she muttered, before asking, "So, I can start pushing now, right?"

"No!" He glowered at her. "Don't you dare start pushing."

"Why not?" Gabriella demanded petulantly.

Troy sighed. "Because if you start to push now Queen Montez, the twins would have to be delivered by a Caesarean section, and that would be messy, and you wouldn't like it very much."

Her eyes grew wide at the thought. "Okay, I wont push." Gabriella let her guard down for a minute. "It hurts, Troy. It really hurts."

"I know." He leant down and kissed her forehead gently. "But I'm here. And were taking you up to OB, and I wont leave you."

"Dr. Bolton." It was Rita, looking like a woman who'd seen something impossible. "She's just dilated to twelve centimeters."

Troy looked at Rita in shock, then at Gabriella. "You work fast, babe."

"Bite me, Troy," she said, eyes growing wide. "What in the name of God…" she broke off.

"Gabriella?" Troy was gripping her hand, and before he let go, he kissed her forehead again. "You can push. Give me two seconds, okay?"

"What about drugs?" she demanded.

"I'm afraid there's no time for that, it'll have to be a natural birth."

"WHAT?" But the desire to push was too strong, and she knew there was nothing she could do about it.

It did actually take him virtually two seconds to pull on a fresh pair of gloves, and reappear at the foot of the bed, pushing her legs wider apart.

"Okay, Brie," he said, "On my count, were going to push."

"What's this we crap?" Gabriella demanded. "On your count, I'm going to push a watermelon out of something the size of a lemon. And only one of two watermelons."

"The lemon actually looks a bit more like a prune, Ella," Troy offered with a smile.

"When this is over," Gabriella glared at him; "I'm going to shoot you."

"Whatever. Now, Gabriella, one, two, three, push." He paused and stared at her. "Push"

"I AM!" Gabriella grunted with effort, and finally let out a loud, angry wail. "I'm going to cut your heart out with a bread knife."

"That's better," Troy announced as she strained and pushed.

"I'm never having sex again," Gabriella panted, her breath coming in short gasps, when she finished pushing, waiting for the next contraction.

"Try to keep your breathing exercises up," Carly suggested timidly, but Gabriella didn't say anything; she turned her agate green eyes on the young woman, her expression saying it all.

"If I was you, I'd try to keep my mouth shut, Car," Dave said, coming in from emergency one. At Carly's silent question, he shook his head quickly. "Brain damage. She coded. Couldn't revive her."

"I'm sorry," Carly commiserated, a tender expression on her face. She and Dave were interns and losing a patient was still personal to them. Dave returned the expression and Rita idly wondered if they weren't already sleeping together.

"Oh look," Gabriella spoke up, her voice ragged but still amused, "If it isn't Dr. Don't Push Da-ve."

Dave took her free hand and smiled at her, picking up the washcloth from the bed and wiping her brow. "Oh look, if it isn't the pissed off Watermelon Out a Lemon Lady in Labor."

"I'm killing you too," the brunette announced. "And according to Dr. I've Already Got Ideas, its a prune."

"Gabriella," Troy commanded, breaking across the conversation. "The next contraction's here. Time to push again."

"I-"

"Just push!" he demanded in an authoritative voice. Gabriella did so, defiantly loud, with an ear-splitting yell directed at Troy, gripping onto Carly and Dave and bucking her hips upwards.

"Gabriella!" Troy exclaimed in a strained voice. "Could you please give me some warning before you do something like that?"

"Why?" Her eyes, darkened with pain, narrowed in on him suspiciously. "Where are your hands?"

"Where do you think my hands are?" he retorted snappily. "Just give me some warning. I nearly ripped your..." he fumbled for a word, "Lining."

"You know," Gabriella said, as she finished pushing, gasping with effort, and dripping with sweat, "When I thought of delivering the babies, I didn't imagine I was going to be having a domestic argument with you."

"Gabriella, we don't have domestic arguments."

"Well we wouldn't if you didn't leave the toilet seat up!" she growled. The pain was so intense she thought she was going to pass out, but she didn't want to give anybody the satisfaction. Taylor had never told her how painful labor was.

"I-" she began.

"Push!" he dictated.

"I-"

"Push!"

"I-"

"Shut up and push!"

"Don't tell me what to do!" she yelled indignantly, before pushing as hard she possibly could, feeling like she was about to split into two halves of the same body, as the pain seared up and down her spine, to her feet, to the ends of her hair.

Troy smiled at her over her raised legs, his face suddenly radiant with indescribable joy. "Its crowning. I can see the head, Gabriella. You're nearly there. Push again."

"I'm tired," Gabriella said suddenly, realizing it was true. She didn't know how long she'd been doing this, but it felt like an eternity.

"Come on, Gabriella, you can do it. If you can punch the West High Captain, shoot six Jell-O shots in a row and still walk straight, and live with me, you can push a little baby out."

"I know what you're doing," she told him. "And-its-not-working," she pushed, her head feeling light, and all sensations below her waist like an endless rain of fire and brimstone.

"Okay, stop" Troy instructed.

"STOP?" She stared at him aghast; she stared at him like he had three heads and one eye. "Are you completely insane. Stop?"

He nodded, an expression of concentration written across his face. "You can't push, Gabriella."

"I really, really, really have to push, Troy."

"Don't push! You cant!" He looked up, over her raised knees. "I have to turn the baby's shoulders. You can not push."

"I have to" she said in a small voice. "Troy, I really have to. it hurts, Troy, God, it hurts." Tears appeared in her eyes. "Please, I-"

"Oh, sweetheart." Troy looked up at her. "Just hold on, two seconds, I promise, and"

"Troy"

"Okay." He kept her eyes captured on his. "Now, push Gabriella. Last push. Come on. Push."

"No." She sank back on the bed, her grip on Dave and Carly's hands limp. "I can't push."

"Sure you can," Troy encouraged. "It's the last push, I promise. Don't you want to see your baby?"

"I'm tired," she whispered. "I can't do it. I'm too tired."

"Look at me," he said in a loud voice. "Look at me Gabriella Montez." She did, her brown eyes dull and exhausted.

His voice softened, so full of love Carly thought she was going to cry. "Brie, I know you're tired, and I know it hurts, and I know that you just want to go sleep. But you're so close, you're so close to your baby. And I know how much you want this. Alright? So, were going to do this together."

She looked at him a long time. "I-" she took a deep breath. "On the count of three, right?"

"Yes." He leaned forward and kissed her knee gently, because he couldn't kiss anything else, and he needed to kiss her somewhere. "One, two, three..."

Gabriella pushed, not hearing Carly and Dave's cries of encouragement, or Rita's either; she didn't feel that splitting, aching, vicious, murderous moment of pain; all she saw were Troy's eyes carrying her onwards.

And then, she heard the cries of her baby.

Troy was by her side, Carly and Dave stepping out of the way, and Gabriella got her first look of her child, as Troy laid the baby on her chest.

"Meet your son, Gabriella," Troy said, close by her ear, his eyes filled with the same sense of wonderment, the same tears, his hands gently following the lines of the little baby's face, looking, like her, a proud parent.

"I-" she was speechless. For the very first time in her life, Gabriella didn't have a clue what to say. It escaped her then; the need to breathe, the need to think, speak, or even feel anything. Everything she was or would be, was wrapped up in the squalling, helpless little thing lying on her chest.

"Owen," Gabriella said, feeling that the name fitted. "Owen Troy Montez."

"It's beautiful," Troy told her, kissing her forehead, his free hand twined in hers. "So is he."

"I know."

"You were amazing," he said, kissing her again, and they sat there, looking at Owen like he was angel, or something just as miraculous.

* * *

AN: One down, one to go. So please keep up the amazing reviews so I can keep writing! 


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Not Mine

The Moments that Count: Chapter Eleven

The OB was the same oasis of peace and quiet that it had been last time they'd been there. Right now, however, Troy wasn't concentrating on anything else except Gabriella, who was being wheeled down the hallway, and Owen, who was being wheeled towards the nursery.

"Can't he stay with us?" Gabriella asked, as she and her son started heading in opposite directions. The color was back in her face and her eyes, and she looked appealingly at the redheaded nurse taking Owen away.

The nurse shook her head sympathetically. "Sorry. He has to be checked over by a pediatrician, and you've got another baby to deliver." Owen and the nurse disappeared around the corner.

"And I had forgotten all about the second baby until she just reminded me," Gabriella said viscously. She tightened her grip on Troy's hand. "Is this normal? This wait? I thought the second baby was supposed to come right out."

"Only in the movies Brie," he answered, running his free hand up and down her forearm as they entered one of the rooms. "You've only been waiting ten minutes. The longest wait ever recorded was eighteen hours."

She rolled her eyes. "That's so encouraging."

"But the average wait," he continued, as he hooked Gabriella up to a fetal monitor, "Is between ten minutes to half-an-hour."

"Great! I've got under an hour to get ready for the next onslaught. Just fantastic."

Troy twined his hand through hers. "You are doing so well. I really mean that. I'm so proud of you."

"Just you wait," she warned. "When I kill the doctor and the nurse, you wont think I'm so great."

"I will always think you are amazing after today. I just don't know how women do it."

"Its called necessary action, Bolton. There's no other way to get rid of a baby. So you do it. And then, according to Taylor, you forget how bad the pain is, and you let yourself get pregnant again."

Troy grinned. "Yeah, Lizzy was a bit of an accident, wasn't she?"

"Accident?" Gabriella snorted. "Taylor didn't believe the doctor when she found out she was pregnant, and she refused to admit it until she was six months gone.

"Well, she turned out to be a gorgeous accident. I was an accident."

"I know," Gabriella deadpanned. "The scientists were told to destroy you, but you somehow escaped, and now you're a respected member of the community. Modern science at its worst."

"Funny, ha, ha. You know, being pregnant doesn't give a license to be a bitch, Montez."

"Don't call me Montez. And I do know that," she replied. "I'm always a bitch. I was an accident too, you know."

"Really?"

"Really," Gabriella nodded. "My father hadn't planned for any children, but my mother refused to get rid of me."

"Just as well. The world would have been deprived of another freak."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm pregnant. Be nice to me."

"You know, that excuse is only going to last you another a few hours. And that's a maximum."

She shrugged. "It never worked anyway."

Troy rolled his eyes. "So, you wanna watch some TV, you want something to drink, what?"

She sighed listlessly. "I want to hurry up and have this baby. That's what I really want."

He ran his hand down over her sweaty hair to the back of her neck, rubbing it softly. "I know. Its hard to wait. And you're probably exhausted."

"Yes," she agreed. "Do I get drugs this time around?"

He smiled. "Yes, you do. The doctor can't administer them yet, we have to wait a little while longer."

"I never thought I'd be so happy to have drugs," Gabriella commented. "I feel like I've just run a marathon."

"You look like you have, too."

"You mean I'm not my usual stunning self?" she questioned self-depreciatingly. "Speaking of the doctor.."

"We were?" Troy interrupted.

"Yes, we were," Gabriella insisted. "Where exactly is Dr. Edwards?"

Troy sat down on the bed, near her feet. "Well, she might be at home, so they've paged her, and shell be here soon. She might be on a shift, and she's responsible for a few other expectant mothers, so she'll be here in a few minutes. Or, she's delivering a baby in theatre, and if that takes a while, another doctor will monitor your progress until Kirsten arrives."

"I don't want another doctor," she said childishly. "I want Dr. Edwards."

"I'm sure she'll be here soon," he reassured her. "In the meantime," he said, grabbing the remote control, "I think that the Yankees are playing."

"No, they aren't," Gabriella disputed. "And don't you even think about turning the television on. You are not allowed to watch sport whilst we await the birth of our second child."

Troy looked up sharply, catching her eyes with his. "Your child."

"Yeah," she agreed softly, not meaning it for a second. "Yeah."

The door was pushed open quickly, and a nurse with nut-brown skin, chocolate eyes and small hands, entered the room. "Hi," she said, with a worried expression written across her face. "I'm Julia Stevens. I'm going to be your nurse today. There's a small problem."

"Problem?" Gabriella sat up alarmed, and winced in pain. "Damn it!" She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, ignoring the pain. "What's wrong with Owen?"

"Little Owen? He's fine," Julia answered. "No, he's just fine. In fact, he is gorgeous, Ms. Montez. The doctor checked him out, and he's the healthiest baby she's seen in a while."

"That's a relief," Gabriella sighed. "What's wrong then?"

"Mm. Well" she trailed away. "I'm afraid that you have to be moved, Ms. Montez."

"Moved?" Troy asked his brow wrinkling. "What do you mean moved? Into theatre? What? Where? Dr. Edwards hasn't even checked her out yet, and exactly where is Dr. Edwards?"

"Dr. Edwards is coming, she's attending to another birth right now. And there's nothing wrong with your wife's condition," Julia reassured him.

"She's not my wife," Troy said, sick of correcting people. "Where does she have to be moved?"

"All of the patients from the OB ward are currently being moved downstairs to the ER."

"Why?"

"Well, if you'd stop interrupting, I'd tell you," Julia snapped, finally sick of Troy and Gabriella constantly interjecting. "There's a bomb threat. The Right to Life group does this to us all the time. Why an OB ward, I have no idea, but nobody ever said they made any sense. Anyway, its always been a hollow threat previously, but we just can't take the risk, so we have to move all mothers and babies. After all, they have blown up other places before."

"Oh, I see," Troy said, exhaling. "Well then, I suppose there's nothing else to be done."

"I apologize," Julia smiled softly. "Owen's already been taken down with the other babies; they left five minutes ago, so they should have already arrived in the ER. Troy and I will take you downstairs right now." Julia began unhooking Gabriella from the fetal monitor.

Gabriella shrugged. "Back to the ER, I suppose."

"Mm," Troy agreed as they began to wheel her down the hall. Why don't we take the service elevator they're supposed to be used in emergencies.

"Good idea," Julia pointed out. "And if you don't mind, I won't come down with you. I've got to help get all these patients down, and being a doctor, I'm sure I can count on you not to do anything too stupid."

Troy grinned. "She would have superior care in your hands, but I'll do my best."

"You see to it," Julia said as they arrived at the service elevator. She smiled at Gabriella. "He gives you any trouble you just tell me."

Gabriella rolled her eyes. "He's been giving me trouble for twenty years."

* * *

They'd been in the lift less than ten seconds when the pain shot through her. It came so quickly Gabriella couldn't move, or make a noise. Troy knew there was something wrong though, because she gripped his hand hard enough to almost break the little finger.

"Shit," he said, looking at his finger. It seemed bent. "What's wrong?"

"I-" she said, but it came out as a little squeak; she made another series of incomprehensible noises.

The old elevator continued to creak and groan, and Troy placed a hand over her stomach. "Gabriella?"

"Oh God," she managed. "Something's wrong."

Troy fumbled for his stethoscope and placed it over her stomach. He waited a moment, and then he moved again and again in quick succession, obviously searching for something. "Christ," he muttered.

"What?" Gabriella asked. "Tr-Troy, what's wrong?" The pain had sent her skin grey and her eyes metallic black. "Troy?"

"I'm here," he answered quickly, reaching for her hand and squeezing it reassuringly. He couldn't exactly tell her everything was okay.

Gabriella exhaled suddenly, and her voice returned to normal. "The pains gone," she said gratefully, heaving a sigh of relief. "I, I think my waters have broken again though," she smiled.

Troy didn't smile at her in return. Instead he closed his eyes and opened them again slowly. "Your waters didn't break again, Gabriella."

She stared at him. "W-what's going on?"

As he spoke, her pushed her legs back up so that her knees were bent. "I'm afraid I cant hear the baby's heartbeat anymore."

That was when the elevator chose to come to a shuddering halt.

* * *

AN: Thank you so much for the amazing reviews... Truly, the response is incredible. The second baby seems to be a little stubborn thing, what with the no heartbeat and the elavator stuck and all... if you can keep reading/reviewing I can probably whip up an update! 


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Not mine.

The Moments that Count: Chapter Twelve

Carly entered the lounge and stopped up short. Instead of the usual array of residents, attendings, nurses and students sitting around gossiping and eating and complaining about how tired they were, there were babies. Actual living breathing babies that had appeared in the time it had taken Carly to walk to the fridge, get a salad sandwich, take one bite, throw it away in disgust, and return to the lounge.

She was standing there still staring, when a warm, hard body bumped into her, almost knocking her over. Dave's strong hands caught her and helped her regain her balance. "Sorry, Carly," he said. "I seem to keep bumping into you today. What's wrong?"

"Babies," she answered, holding the lounge door open for him to see.

Dave nodded as if it was perfectly natural for their lounge to be filled with newborn babies. "Oh, that. The OB received a bomb threat from Right to Life, so all the babies and the patients are being moved down here, for precaution. The last lot should be down right about now."

"So, Owen's in here somewhere," Carly said, stepping into the room a little warily. She was an only child, and although she had lots of little cousins, they all lived on the West Coast, and she didn't see them very often.

"He should be," Dave answered, and together they started scanning the names. "Kate is a very popular name," he observed.

"So is Sarah," Carly answered. "I found him!" Weaving her way through the other babies, with Dave following, they came to stand in front of Owen, who occupied the space next to the fridge.

"He is gorgeous," Dave said softly, running a finger over Owen's cheek. The baby immediately turned his head, and his brown eyes fluttered open. Dave laughed. "Owen Montez," he read the name written on the blue card.

Carly looked down in awe. "He's so small. I think I had dolls bigger than that when I was a child."

"Hell get bigger," Dave observed dryly. "Can you imagine actually being responsible for something so small? And not just one, but two of them? I'd be scared shitless."

"I can't imagine it." Carly touched Owen's hands. The baby was wrapped tightly in blue blankets. "The pink and blue blankets are a little sexist, I think. They should wrap them all in yellow or white blankets and be egalitarian."

"It's cute."

She rolled her eyes. "Sex-role stereotyping is not even remotely cute."

"Yeah, yeah I know. Down with the patriarchy, burn the bra, all of that." He grinned. "You know, I really wouldn't protest if you wanted to burn your bra right here. Feel free to remove as many articles of clothing as you think appropriate."

"You're unbelievable."

"Yep." Dave looked around to make sure nobody else was in the room. "What's the story with Troy and Gabriella?"

Carly shrugged. "How would I know?"

"He's never mentioned her to us."

"Well," the blonde tilted her head; "We've only known him a few weeks, and were not exactly best friends. He's our boss, and we're his students, and we only know each other professionally. That kind of thing is very personal information. Besides, you heard Gabriella before they're just friends, and Troy isn't the father."

"Well, yeah," Dave agreed, watching as Owen blinked repeatedly and looked around gingerly, trying to assimilate everything new. "But I just get the feeling there's something more between them."

Carly looked at Dave, and was suddenly aware of their proximity; suddenly aware that they were both standing there with a baby, his hip pressed up against hers, his shoulder brushing hers gently.

"There's always something more between friends," Carly said softly. "The whole Harry met Sally thing. Harry got it right men and women always have unspoken tension."

Then she kissed him, because it seemed like the right moment, and she'd wanted to kiss him since she'd met him on orientation day in first year, at NYU.

Dave kissed her back, understanding, like she did, that sometimes you could justify breaking all the rules.

"This is going to get us fired," Dave whispered, near Carly's ear, his kisses tracking across her jaw, and back up to her delicious mouth.

"I know," she answered as he descended down her neck, sucking on the sensitive skin near the junction of neck and collarbone. He sucked until the skin was hot, and then he blew gently on it. "Great," Carly muttered, her hands in his hair, "That's all I need. A hickey."

"Don't complain," Dave muttered.

"I'll complain all I want." She fumbled at his buttons, trying to reach the smooth skin of his torso. Finally, too impatient, she ripped the shirt, sending the buttons flying, pulling the shirt off.

"I liked that shirt," Dave said, as he pushed her lab coat off her shoulders.

"Don't complain," Carly fired back. His skin was warm to touch, and the well-defined muscles quivered and rippled under her smooth, long fingers.

When the door burst open, Carly and Dave didn't even have to time to pretend that nothing was going on.

Natalie sighed. "If you're going to do that, at least have the sense to do it somewhere private. There are babies here, for God's sake. You should try the storage cupboard in NICU, or the roof. There's a nice little secluded corner up there. There's an MVA coming in. Dr. Isaac wants you, but not exactly like that."

"Yeah, okay," Dave said.

"Oh- I think Troy has a spare shirt in his locker."

"Thanks Nat."

The redhead then grinned. "And Carly, I've got some concealer in the pink make-up bag in my locker."

"For what?"

"For the rather impressive hickey you're going to get."

Natalie left and Carly buried her head in Dave's shoulder. "Okay, Dr. Dave," she said, pulling away from him. "Let's go and save the world."

"I like the kissing better."

"We can do that later."

"Promise?"

"Just try and stop me."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Carly."

* * *

"The elevators stuck!" Gabriella exclaimed. "I- what the"

Troy pressed the emergency, but it didn't do anything. "Oh, fabulous."

"Troy!" Gabriella's voice was rising with panic. "What's going on? Why cant you hear the baby's heartbeat?"

Troy ran a hand through Gabriella's hair and spoke softly. "I need you to stay calm."

"_Stay calm? _Troy!"

He kept stroking her hair. "You'll only make it worse."

"Make what worse?!"

"Here's the thing," he began. "There's a risk during labor, with twins. Its called placental abruption, and its when the placenta separates from the wall of the uterus before the second child is born, starving the baby of oxygen."

Gabriella bit her bottom lip. "What, what are you going to do about it?"

"Usually, in scenarios like this, the baby is delivered by C-section, but we don't have that option. Not with the elevator stuck."

"Someone will find us, right?"

"Of course they will." Eventually being the operative word, Troy thought pessimistically, but he didn't say it. The last thing Gabriella needed to worry about was not being found in time.

"Can't I just deliver the baby like I did Owen?" Her eyes were wide with a fear that wrenched at Troy's heart and made everything ache. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

"There's also a risk with doing that," Troy told her. "Because of the abruption, you might rip the lining of your uterus. If you push too hard, you could risk a hemorrhage. I wouldn't be able to stem the bleeding in here, and you may end up needing a hysterectomy. Worst case scenario, if they don't get us out of this elevator in time, you could bleed to death."

Gabriella completely ignored the risk she was placing herself in, and said, "But if I don't do it, the baby will die."

"Yes," he said, looking away, the thought frightening him as much as it did Gabriella. Not now, he thought. Not when she's been through so much to get here.

"Then I'll do it."

Troy looked back at her, and they stared at each other for a long moment, before he nodded. "Okay."

* * *

Carly sighed and hit the button for the elevator again. The doctors used the service elevator when the others were busy, and right now, all the transport between the OB and the ER meant that the elevator area was like Grand Central station.

They were filled to bursting point, but nobody was complaining, mostly because they were too disgusted with Right to Life.

"Weren't you waiting here for an elevator five minutes ago?" Natalie asked as she passed by, juggling a pile of charts and files that threatened to topple over at any moment.

"Yes," Carly answered impatiently. "I should probably do the smart thing and take the stairs, shouldn't I? It's good for me."

"The lift should come soon," Natalie offered. "Remember those service elevators are incredibly old, they take forever."

"Or maybe it's broken down," Dave pointed out, as he emerged from the drug cupboard with some atropine.

"Maybe," Carly agreed. "But it only could have broken down if it were in use, so who was using the service elevator?"

"Beats me," he shrugged, heading down the hallway, before turning around and calling out, "Hey, by the way, have you seen Gabriella and Troy? They would have come down with the rest of the OB, right?"

"They'll be around somewhere," Natalie said.

"I've looked everywhere, and I can't find them. I wanted to see if Gabriella's had her second baby yet, and whether its a boy or a girl."

Carly, Natalie, and Dave stared at each other, and then at the service elevator.

"Shit," the three of them said in unison.

* * *

It was the kind of pain that transcended pain; Gabriella was floating in it, drowning in it, so that she barely even noticed it. It become like a second skin, so much part of her, that she didn't feel the effect of it.

The jagged, spearing rifts that stabbed all over her body did make it more difficult to breathe, and she couldn't seem to think properly, but beyond that, she didn't assimilate.

But Troy finally understood what it was to hold life and death in his hands. He'd heard other doctors talking about it, but had never experienced it himself. And now he knew. There was blood everywhere, on his hands, leaking out onto the sheets, and Gabriella was bathed in it. The red liquid made working slippery, and Troy slid his hand carefully up the birth canal, trying not to do anymore damage.

His hand connected with the baby's foot, and he swore under his breath, realizing it would be a breach delivery.

"Okay, Gabriella, I want you to push very, very gently." He spoke quietly into her ear, his free hand resting above her stomach. "Very gently."

If she pushed too hard she could increase the bleeding, but if she didn't push soon enough, the baby would die from lack of oxygen.

He felt her muscles spasm around him, and following the natural ebb of the contraction, he guided the baby down the canal, slowly, holding onto both feet with the one hand.

Fresh blood appeared, and he started praying to a God he didn't believe in, begging for Him to save Gabriella and the baby.

"And another push, Gabriella," he said. She was looking at him, eyes bright, holding his gaze, trusting him implicitly. It overwhelmed him in that second, and he almost couldn't breathe.

If he fucked this up, they could both die, and he didn't think he could live with that. He couldn't, he just couldn't live without Gabriella. He was supposed to die before her, years from today, so that he'd never have to be without her for even a single moment.

As he began to hyperventilate, Troy realized he wasn't much use to Gabriella or the baby like that, and he forced himself to breathe naturally, rigorously forcing his body to obey him.

His eyes cleared and they focused on Gabriella's brown pupils again. She pushed, not needing instructions.

This time the muscles didn't contract as much, and Troy had to use more force to pull the baby further down, until he could see the feet.

They were the wrong color they weren't red at all.

"One last push," he said hurriedly, and Gabriella heard the urgency in his voice, pushing the baby out without any of Troy's help, until the tiny little girl was sitting in the cupped palm of Troy's hands.

She was a horrible, horrible blue-purple color, and she wasn't crying.

"Troy," Gabriella said weakly, unable to move her head.

"Its a girl," Troy said dully. "She'll be okay."

He started gentle chest compressions with two fingers, opening the tiny mouth and blowing carefully into it.

She was so damn blue, and his eyes blurred over with tears.

Troy had wanted to Gabriella have a little girl so much, and now that he'd seen her, he knew he couldn't live without her either. Not when he had everything to teach her, and everything to learn about her.

"Troy," Gabriella repeated, using the last of her energy to stretch her neck up and look at the end of the gurney.

"Its okay," he repeated, wondering, for a moment, who was trying to reassure: Gabriella, the baby or himself.

"She's blue." Gabriella's voice was tinged with hysteria, and her breathing was shallow. "Troy, she's-"

Then it went black.

* * *

AN: The end of one cliffhanger... the beginning of another... And to those of you who are confused by Troy's behavior, don't worry. He'll be the Daddy (though I'm not sure if he'll be Daddy to one or two babies?!). But the bottom line is they're Gabriella's. And she has the final word, so Troy just needs to remind Gabriella and himself that ultimately, she's the prime parent figure. At least until they get married or something like that. :) 


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Not mine.

The Moments that Count: Chapter Thirteen

Gabriella awoke slowly, feeling warm and dopey, like she was floating in warm water. All sound was muted. Voices muttered past her fleetingly, and she tried to catch them unsuccessfully. Other sounds flickered past, and she eventually gave up trying to discern them.

Her eyes opened slowly, white light blinding her, and she blinked rapidly, closing her eyes, and slowly opening them again, until she grew used to the light.

She was in the ER; that much was obvious, and she was still very much alive, although not in any more pain. It was blissful.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," said a familiar voice.

"Troy?" Her eyes struggled opened, and she surfaced through the soupy haze. "Why do I feel like I'm drugged up to my eyeballs?"

"That's probably because you are," he replied. "The effects will wear off soon, I promise. Have some water."

Troy placed a straw in her mouth, and she sucked gratefully, her throat dry and scratchy.

Her eyes finally focused and she saw Troy standing in front of her, gently cradling a baby against his chest. The little baby's head was covered with a white beanie, and it was wrapped tightly in yellow blankets. From the way Troy held her, he looked like a professional.

"I..." she began, trailing off, too afraid to ask, for fear of getting the answer she didn't want.

Troy smiled. "Gabriella, meet your daughter, who is, as yet, unnamed."

_Thank God. _Gabriella closed her eyes, and felt tears of relief trickle slowly out, leaking from her eyes, down her cheeks. _Oh, thank God._

She felt Troy's hand on her forehead, his thumb brushing away the tears, gently. "It's okay," he told her. "It's okay."

"It is now," she said softly. "Thank you God," she repeated.

"You made a few deals with him too, huh?"

She tried to laugh, but it hurt, and she swallowed the sound into a weary smile. Unconsciously, her hand drifted over her stomach, wondering, but again, too frightened to say anything.

Troy placed his hand over hers, creating a warm, wonderful pressure across her stomach. "Yes Gabriella, you still have your uterus. You passed out from the blood loss. About a minute later, I managed to revive this little one here, and the lift started up again."

"It did?" She opened her eyes.

"Yes. Carly, Dr. Da-ve and Natalie figured out that we were stuck in the service elevator. They called maintenance. They're a lot smarter than you gave them credit for."

"Can I sit up?"

"No," he answered. "You've got quite a few stitches. For now, just lie back, and rest easy. Work out a name for this one."

Gabriella looked at the sleeping face. "Is she really okay?"

"She's fine." Troy brushed the baby's forehead. "A little smaller than we'd like, but she is premature, and she's the second twin. She's a little weak from the lack of oxygen, but that should right itself in a few weeks, and she'll be just like every other baby."

Gabriella was about to say something, when the door was pushed open, and Julia, the OB nurse from upstairs, entered the room.

"You're awake," she said, smiling congenially at Gabriella. "I'll adjust your dosage to get rid of that sleepy feeling."

"Thanks."

Julia unobtrusively checked Gabriella's vitals, moving around as quietly as possible, and stepping around Troy deferentially. "You gave us quite a scare," she continued. "You're probably the most dramatic thing to happen in the OB since we had quintuplets born on the ward."

"Well, that's me. Dramatic," Gabriella deadpanned. "Sorry if I induced a heart attack."

"In the end, none of us did much at all. The lift doors opened, and there was Troy, holding the baby, and calmly telling us that you needed to get some oxygen. And then of course, he saved your uterus."

Gabriella looked at up at Troy. "Superman here didn't tell me that bit."

Julia raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Bolton didn't extol his own courage? That's a surprise."

"Is there a nurse or doctor in this hospital who doesn't know you, Troy? Just out of curiosity." Gabriella tightened her grip on his hand.

"If he won't tell you, I will." Julia pressed the button for Gabriella's blood pressure, and made a few marks on the chart. "You were bleeding very badly, and Dr. Edwards thought you'd hemorrhaged. Troy had to drop the baby off in the nursery and make sure that a pediatrician checked her out, and then went to find you. He came charging back into theatre one, just as Dr. Edwards was getting ready to perform a hysterectomy. Troy said that if they were going to cut your uterus out, they had to cut his penis off."

Julia stifled a grin. "Then there was a huge argument, because Dr. Edwards said if they didn't do a hysterectomy, you could bleed to death. And Troy suggested that you should receive blood, and if you hadn't stopped bleeding in half-an-hour, then they would seek alternative treatment, but a hysterectomy was simply not an option."

Gabriella looked at Troy in shock. He shrugged nonchalantly. "I tried explaining that you'd had a placental abruption, and that usually in cases like that, the bleeding is a result of the placenta breaking away, not a problem in the uterus."

"He was right," Julia concurred. "Five minutes later, you expelled the placenta, and you stopped bleeding." She made one last note on the chart and then patted Gabriella's arm reassuringly, then left.

Troy carefully sat down on the edge of the bed, right near Gabriella's hip, lifting the baby's head a little.

"Where's Owen?" Gabriella asked.

"In the nursery. He'll be hungry soon. So, how about a name? Owen has to have a name to bug his sister with."

Gabriella bit her bottom lip. "You name her."

"Brie, I've already explained-"

"I know," she interrupted. "You've explained, but I ended up naming Owen, and you should have done that."

"Gabriella,"

"Really Troy, she's only alive because of you. You saved her. I just, I'd really like it if you named her for me, for Owen." Gabriella rested a hand on his leg. "For us."

Troy looked down and then back at Gabriella. "Yeah, okay. I'll name her. I might have to think about it, though."

"That's fine."

"Thought about it," Troy immediately announced.

"You rat," Gabriella said, grinning. "You already had a name planned out."

"I did not!" He struggled to hide his smile. "There are just a few names that I happen to like, that's all."

"So, what will Owen's sister be called?"

"Madeline. Madeline Abigail."

"Abigail?" She raised a surprised and slightly worried eyebrow.

"You don't like it?"

"I like it," Gabriella reassured him. "It's just an unusual choice, that's all."

"Madeline means elevated." He touched Madeline's snub nose with his little finger. Gabriella didn't think she'd ever seen him be so gentle. "But Abigail means a father's joy."

Gabriella ached then, for these children that Troy would love as his own. "It's beautiful Troy."

"I should think so. The second choice after Madeline was Augusta."

"It was not," she disputed. "Even you would never impart such an atrocious name to a poor, helpless baby."

"No, I wouldn't," he agreed. "The second choice was actually Juliet."

"I like Madeline better."

The door opened for the second time, and an OB nurse they didn't know wheeled Owen in and smiled at what she presumed was a family.

"Here. I'll help you sit up just a little." He did so, maneuvering her deftly, although he had just the one free hand. Then, he handed over Madeline, and went to pick Owen up.

"Owen, this is your sister Madeline. She's younger than you are. Granted, only by half an hour, but you have to look out for her. And Madeline," Troy turned to look at the younger twin, "Give Owen hell."

Gabriella rolled her eyes. "Great. You're already corrupting them."

"Sure am," he grinned.

* * *

AN: So everyone is healthy and happy and I'll try and keep the cliffhangers at a minimum for the next couple chapters. But thank you so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so much to all of those that reviewed those last two chapters. It really does mean the world to me so please keep it up! 


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don't own HSM.

The Moments that Count: Chapter Fourteen

Taylor walked into the ER hesitantly. It was a flurry of activity that was almost frightening, and terribly confusing to somebody who didn't understand just how sophisticated and organized the whole system was.

An ER doctor would see teams working in conjunction, traumas being handled seamlessly, and order in the chaos.

All Taylor could see were doctors and nurses running around, people puking, and a woman wailing in the corridor. She could hear various alarms going off, the screams of a child, and the unmistakable smell of hospitals permeated her senses.

"Come on Marcus," she said, as the boy hurried in from the cold, huffing and puffing, and looking around with amazement.

She walked over to what appeared to be the front desk, and made sure her son was following her. There was a woman with red hair yelling angrily into the phone, gesturing with vehemence. She slammed it down and pivoted, seeing Taylor.

She stared at Taylor for a moment, before she stormed off.

"Isn't this just a lovely, welcoming place?" asked an amused voice from behind Taylor.

Taylor whirled around, and saw Sharpay's familiar face, framed by the blonde hair, the wide brown eyes and the vivacious grin. "Sharpay," she cried, glad to see somebody she knew.

As they hugged, Sharpay informed her, "I've been waiting for somebody to help me for about seven minutes now, and I think we could be waiting for another seven minutes. Hi Marcus."

"Hi Aunty Sharpay," the boy greeted her, kissing her on the cheek. "Hey! You've had a haircut."

"I have! Thank you very much, would you believe that my boyfriend didn't even notice."

"He didn't?" Marcus looked surprised.

"No. That's why I got rid of him. Dumped him cold on Valentine's Day." Taylor laughed. "It's true!" Sharpay exclaimed. "I'm flying solo at the moment. You know any cute guys?"

"Just me, Aunty Sharpay," Marcus answered cheekily.

Sharpay smiled. "I see you inherited your aunt's sense of humor." Then she looked about. "Where's Lizzy?"

"With Alex," Taylor told her. "We flew out as soon as Troy called us, and Alex is looking for a hotel. I thought Lizzy would be a little overwhelming for Gabriella. She can visit tomorrow."

"Ladies, can I help you?" inquired a smooth voice from the other side of the desk. The speaker was a young, handsome man in a lab coat, and with flawless olive skin and dark eyes, he was mercuric and quixotic, immediately capturing Sharpay's attention. "I'm sorry about the wait, but things are a little hectic around here."

"That's okay," Taylor smiled. "I'm in the restaurant business. This looks like the organized chaos of the kitchen, on a Saturday night, when a famous food critic is sitting at table one."

The young man smiled in response. "Except the result from a kitchen is much more tasty than anything around here."

Sharpay spoke up. "We're looking for Gabriella Montez. She just had twins, we were told that she'd be down here."

"Ah." The mans face cleared. "That would be the Lemon, Watermelon and Prune lady. She's in room three."

Sharpay smiled winningly. "That would be wonderful, if we knew where room three was."

"Good point. By the way, you are family, right?"

"Well, she is, by marriage of course." Sharpay pointed to Taylor. "She's Gabriella's sister-in-law; but I'm Troy's sister. And him being the father and all," Sharpay lied cheerfully. She didn't quite understand the perturbed look the young man sent her.

"Sure. If you'd come this way." He led them through the mess with ease and confidence, swinging past two trauma rooms, around a gurney in the middle of a corridor, cutting through a domestic argument, practically stepping over a screaming child, and past a corridor, where he held open a door for them.

"Hey," the man said, directing his comment at Gabriella, "Lemon/Prune, you and the Watermelons have some guests."

Taylor entered with a bemused look. "I'm not even going to ask about the food references. Hello, sweetheart!"

"Tay, hi!" Gabriella looked tired, but she smiled. "Where's Marcus?"

"Here," Marcus said, materializing beside Gabriella's bed. "Where are the babies?" he then demanded.

"Patience is a virtue," Gabriella informed him.

"No its not," Sharpay disagreed. "Patience is a waste of time."

Sharpay gave Gabriella a careful hug, not wanting to hurt her. "How are you?"

Gabriella glared at Taylor. "You lied to me! It is very painful. It's like going to Hell and back, in a really bumpy coach, with a really bad driver, and having motion sickness the entire way. Indescribably woeful and uncomfortable, and so off-putting you don't ever want to do it again."

Sharpay grinned. "I'm guessing you wouldn't advise me to get pregnant anytime in the near future."

"No," Gabriella answered vehemently. "Save yourself the trouble, the pain, and everything that comes afterwards."

"She's just bitching because she doesn't have an excuse to be a bitch anymore." Troy stood in the doorway, with Madeline in his arms. "And before you bombard me, you have to be very careful with Madeline, she's a little weak."

"Madeline?" Marcus stepped forth. "Like from the book about Madeline?"

Troy shook his head. "Actually, its Madeline from the delicious French pastries that sent Marcel Proust into fits of creative rapture."

Sharpay shook her head in amazement. "See, I'm never going to be able to assimilate this. The whole, Troy as an intellectual-doctor thing."

"This is my cousin?" Marcus verified.

"One of them," Troy answered. "You can have first hold, Marcus. Just sit down carefully over here," he instructed, pointing to a chair. "And hold your arms like that, good. Now, here you go."

Marcus looked at the girl lying in his arms. "She's so little."

"She's premature. So is her older brother, Owen."

"I'm guessing that's Owen," Taylor said, as Julia wheeled the older twin in. "May I?"

"Of course. He's your nephew," Gabriella answered.

Sharpay spoke up. "You should have had triplets so that I could have somebody to hold. I'm an aunt too!"

"God!" Gabriella rolled her eyes. "The mere thought of three makes me feel sick. You have no idea what I went through to get the second one out. A third probably would have killed me."

"No probably about it," Troy said quietly, his voice subdued.

Sharpay sat at the food of the bed. "Well, with the others so distracted, let me quiz you about the doctor who led us to your room."

"Give it up Sharpay," the brunette answered. "That's Dr. Dave, and he's taken by Dr. Carly."

"Damn it! Why are the good ones always taken?"

"I'm not taken," Troy answered, gently lifting Marcus' elbow a fraction to support Madeline's head better. Taylor, cooing over Owen wasn't paying much attention to anyone else at all.

"She said good ones," Marcus promptly answered.

Gabriella laughed and immediately regretted it, the pain seizing her sharply. She rode it out quietly.

Troy threw the boy a dirty look. "What are you? Like eight? And you're insulting me?"

"Yep," Sharpay answered. "This is what you have to look forward. By the time Owen and Madeline are eight, they will have been around you so long, witty repartee will come as second nature."

Troy threw her a dirty look as well, as Marcus spoke up. "Hey Uncle Troy, you aren't Madeline and Owen's Dad are you?"

"No, I'm not," Troy answered carefully.

"Uncle Chad's their Dad, right?"

Sharpay stilled, and Troy didn't quite know what to say. Taylor was about to tell her son to be quiet, when Gabriella answered. "Chad is their Dad, yes. But he's not here, because he chose not to be. Instead, Troy's here. So, really, Troy's like their Dad."

"But you two aren't married," the boy pointed out logically.

"No. But I wasn't married to Chad, either was I?" Marcus shook his head. "So, I don't have to be married to Troy to raise children with him."

Marcus frowned. "But don't you have to be in love?"

"It usually helps," Troy said softly. "But its not always necessary."

"Well," Marcus declared, "I think you'll be a really cool Dad, Uncle Troy. You make a pretty great uncle."

Troy looked over the boys dark curls to look at Gabriella, who was biting her lower lip. As their eyes met, they exchanged something, and she smiled at him.

"Thanks Marcus," Troy said.

* * *

The first time Gabriella had to breastfeed, Troy made to leave the room, but she stilled him with a hand on her wrist.

"Get used to it," she said to him. "Sit down, and don't look if it disgusts you that much."

"But, I mean, you, it's kind of private, isn't it?"

Gabriella grinned. "After everything you've seen today, I really don't think much privacy exists between the two of us."

"That's true."

To his credit, Troy managed to maintain a conversation with her throughout the whole process, though he noticed an oddly twisted expression on her face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, after a few minutes.

She let out a breath. "It just feels very weird, when he suckles. It keeps pulling on my uterus, I can feel it tugging."

He nodded sagely. "Yeah. Some women experience that for as long as they breastfeed. Others only feel it for a few days after labor."

"It's..." she trailed off. "You know what the whole thing is? The whole process of being pregnant, and having children, and breastfeeding is?"

"No. Enlighten me, O' Wise One?"

She gently rubbed Madeline's head. "It's permission to be a woman. That's what it is. That's not some weak female thing. I think that the strongest, most amazing thing we do as women is give birth. A career, and power and everything else, that's all material. Children, they're the most powerful thing anybody can create."

"Where's the cynical Gabriella I know and love?" Troy asked.

"On hiatus," she returned. "Give me a few minutes, I'll be back. I think its time to swap. Could you get Owen for me?"

He complied, swapping Madeline for Owen with little fuss. "I guess I get to burp her now."

"Welcome to the joys of parenthood."

Smiling, Troy put Madeline on his shoulder and started rubbing her back. "I don't have a clue what to do. I want you to know that, in case you're expecting me to have any kind of knowledge. I know about delivering them, but everything after is a mystery to me."

"Well, that makes two clueless people. I don't think were supposed to know what to do. It's called learning as you go, and hoping you don't completely screw it up."

"Oh good, flying by the seat of my pants. My area of expertise."

Gabriella shrugged. "As long as they aren't screaming in pain, I think were doing okay."

"I just- it's scary. I mean face it, without us, they'd be lost, hopeless."

"A bit like you actually." Gabriella smiled and then winced. "Ouch. Owen!" Gabriella shifted the baby around. "That's better."

"You know what," Troy said carefully, "I think, whilst I'm burping Maddy-"

"Maddy?"

"Hey! I named her; I get to give her a nickname. Besides, its a little obvious isn't it, Brie? Maddy and Owen."

"Maddy and Owen," she repeated softly. "But whilst you're burping Maddy, you are planning to.."

He took a deep breath, and completed the sentence. "I think I'll put in a call to the Danforth's."

Gabriella looked down at Owen's head, the sound of his suckling filling the room. "Yeah, actually, why don't you do that?"

"You okay with this?"

"He- Chad should know," she said confidently. "He should know what he left behind."

"Do you want to do it?"

She looked up, brown eyes dark. "No, you can."

Troy carefully kissed her on the forehead. "I won't be long."

* * *

Gail Danforth answered the phone on the third ring. "Hello," she greeted brightly. "Gail speaking."

"Hi, Gail speaking. It's Troy speaking."

"Troy! How are you?"

"I'm good, yeah, I'm okay," he answered, adjusting Madeline slightly. "And yourself?"

"I'm great, Troy. The weather's been awful here for the past few weeks, but more people have been coming to the store."

"The weather is driving them indoors. That and your excellent service and atmosphere."

"Thank you." There was a pause before she spoke again. "I guess I don't have to ask what you're ringing about?"

"If you can count the months up to nine, then no, I guess not."

"Chad's here," she said softly. "He came up for the week to visit us. I'll put him on, okay?"

"Gail, I just rang-" he began to protest, but she was gone before he say anything. Troy heard the clatter of the phone being put down, before Gail's voice sang out, calling for Chad.

Then somebody picked up the phone. "Troy? You there?" Chad asked tentatively.

"Hey, Chad. Long time, no talk."

"Yeah." The awkwardness sat between them and Chad hurried to cover it. "So, how are things in New York?"

"Good. The weather is getting warm again. And there was an three-car pileup downtown about an hour ago, so the hospital is a complete nightmare."

"The hospital," Chad repeated. "I figured it was… well, I knew that it had to be about now."

Troy closed his eyes. "One o'clock this afternoon. A boy and a girl."

"Twins?"

"No Chad, they weren't twins," Troy said, sarcasm rife in his voice, unable to stop the bitterness from creeping though just for a moment. He swallowed it. "Yes, twins. Owen Troy was born at about one o'clock, and then Madeline Abigail, about forty or so minutes later."

Chad didn't say anything about Owen's name. "Is Gabriella okay?"

"She lost a lot of blood, and gave us all a bit of a scare. There were some complications with Madeline's birth."

"Complications?" Chad couldn't hide the anxiety in his voice.

"The placenta separated from the wall of the uterus before Madeline was born, which caused some problems. Madeline suffered slight oxygen deprivation, but Gabriella lost consciousness for a little while. However, they're both recovering just fine, Chad. They'll be okay."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm a doctor. Of course I'm sure. Gabriella will be kept in the hospital for a few days for observation, just to make sure nothing goes wrong. They'll probably let her out day after tomorrow."

That was when Madeline chose to let out a small gurgling cry.

"Is that…" Chad couldn't finish, his voice breaking.

"It's Madeline. I should probably go now."

"Say…say hello to Gabriella for me, would you?"

"Yeah, I will."

And, Chad hurried on, "Tell her I'm sorry, and that I-"

"I have to go," Troy said desperately.

"Troy," Chad interjected, "Are they beautiful?"

Troy leant his forehead against the cool wall beside the phone. "Oh, Chad. They're the most beautiful creatures I've ever seen." He swallowed with difficulty. "I'll talk to you later. Okay? Bye Chad."

"Bye Troy."

Troy hung up and leaned against the wall, rubbing Madeline's back. "That, baby girl, was your Daddy."

Madeline just burped.

* * *

"What did he say?" was Gabriella's quiet question, after Madeline and Owen had been wheeled back to the makeshift nursery.

"He said hello, and that he's sorry. And he wanted to know if the twins were beautiful."

"What did you say?"

"That they were the most beautiful creatures in the whole world. I think he was a little torn up."

"Yeah, well." She looked down at her hands, and Troy realized after a moment, that she was crying, without making any sound.

"Oh, Ella, baby..." He sat on the bed beside her, pulling her close to him. "I know that you miss Chad, and that you wish he was here. It must be hard for you."

"It's not that," she said, her voice somewhere near his neck, her whole body shuddering with sobs. "I'm just, I'm just, I don't even know why I'm crying."

Troy rocked her gently. "Maybe you do miss Chad, and you just don't want to admit it."

She sniffed, her voice blocked off. "I don't miss Chad. I did, but not anymore. I'm almost relieved he's not here; can you imagine the fuss he would have made? I'm just, oh, I don't know."

He smiled. "It's all a little overwhelming, huh?"

"Yes, but I just…every time I think about how I could have died…" she couldn't finish the sentence.

"But you didn't," Troy told her, kissing her on the forehead. "Although, in the next few months, I'm fairly certain you'll wish you had."

"Oh don't worry, Taylor's already filled me in on how awful our lives are going to be. Apparently, it doesn't end until they're old enough to vote."

"Not true," he disputed. "There's college loans, paying for weddings, helping them buy their first homes, minding their grandchildren whilst they work sixty-hour weeks just to pay their mortgage-"

"Okay, okay," Gabriella interrupted, "I think we'll concentrate on learning how to change diapers for now."

"I'm not doing that," Troy shook his head. "There is absolutely no way I'm doing that."

She fixed him with a pointed look. "I've got news for you."

"Hey, look, I delivered them, I don't think I should be expected to-"

"You'll do it," Gabriella said, grabbing his chin between her fingers.

"Fine," he said, surrendering with his hands up and grinning at the same time.

* * *

AN: Thanks again for all the amazing reviews... you truly have no idea how much they mean to me... so keep it up! And get excited because now that the babies are here... it's time for Troy and Gabi to pick up the pace? Don't ya think? 


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I don't own HSM.

The Moments that Count: Chapter Fifteen

Five and Half Weeks Later

"Dr. Bolton?"

Silence.

"Dr. Bolton?"

More silence.

"Uh, Dr. Bolton?"

Carly looked down at her sleeping boss, who had one arm flung up over his forehead and was snoring lightly. She leaned over the back of the couch, until her mouth was against Troy's ear. "TROY!"

He sat up, and Carly sprang back just in time to prevent them from hitting heads. "Wha- what?" he asked, looking disoriented.

"I'm sorry to wake you, Dr. Bolton," Carly said genuinely. She really was, because he looked so exhausted and rundown, like he needed to take a holiday in the Bahamas, swim in a warm blue ocean and sleep soundly for a month. "But I've got a problem that needs your expertise and it can't wait."

Troy rubbed his eyes and yawned widely. "No, no, the hospital doesn't pay me to sleep in the middle of my shift." He stood up and rolled his neck and wrists.

"I got you coffee," Carly told him, proffering the mug with freshly brewed coffee from the coffeemaker in the surgeon's lounge. She'd stolen it, because she knew that Troy refused to drink the stuff from the hospital vending machines, and the emergency doctors didn't have a coffeemaker, they weren't special enough. Only the surgeons got an espresso machine, except that everyone stole from them so often it rather negated the privilege.

He took a sip and sighed with something akin to joy. "You're an angel, Carly. What seems to be the problem?"

"Joseph Mendola, the guy in room three." Carly looked for any signs of recognition on Troy's face. There were none. "Has really bad dandruff and smells kind of like mothballs."

Troy nodded. "Oh, yeah. He came in complaining of periodic numbness in his legs, which he's been experiencing for a few days."

"Well, I figured out why he had numbness pretty quickly. He's taking Provamine for his blood pressure problem, and the dosage is too high. I've talked to his GP, and they're going to correct the prescription."

They walked out of the doctors' lounge and into the corridor. "Okay, good work. What's the problem?"

"I figured I better just check his blood pressure, and it was a little high. Considering his history, I ordered a Chem-7, blood gas, and an EKG." She pulled out part of the ECG and handed it to Troy.

He took one look at the chart. "Christ, he must be in incredible pain."

"That's just it. He can't feel anything. He's sitting there talking to the nurses like he's not about to have a massive heart attack. I thought it might have been hyposensitivity, but after I hit him in the knee to check for reflexes, he berated me loudly for five minutes."

They reached room three. "Okay," Troy said, handing her back the EKG. "It's something called atypical angina. It's atypical - funnily enough - because the patient often doesn't feel any pain until seconds before an attack. It's a good pick-up."

As Troy opened the door, the monitors in the room went crazy, and Joseph Mendola started flailing around.

"Code Red," Carly immediately paged to the admin desk, and two nurses, Rita and Mary arrived in seconds. Troy remembered to put his coffee out of the way before he whipped the pillows out from under Mendola's head and checked the monitor.

"He's in v-fib," Troy announced. "Charge panels to 180."

Rita started warming up the machine; Mary was attaching the plastic pads to Mendola's chest. Carly was performing CPR.

"Charging to 180," Rita said, handing him the panels.

"Clear!" Troy shocked Mendola and looked at the heart monitor. There was no change. Carly resumed CPR.

"Charge to 200."

Rita complied, and handed him the panels again.

"Clear!" Troy shocked him again, and heard the machine resort to normal. "Normal sinus rhythm," he announced. He then picked up his coffee and looked at the young intern. "Carly, you can handle this from now on?"

She nodded. "Thanks for your help."

"No problem. You did good. I'll check in with you, and monitor his conditions."

"Okay."

He turned to the nurses. "Rita, anything that needs my urgent attention? And I'm not talking about people with headaches or lacerations, or people vomiting because they ate too much or they're hungover."

"Then no," Rita told him, with a sympathetic smile. "How much sleep have you got since you and Gabriella took the babies home?"

Troy pretended to think about it. "Uh…let me see…none."

"They that bad?" Mary asked.

"No, they're good babies. They eat, sleep and cry on schedule. That's the problem. And because there's two of them, we have twice the work and twice the sleep deprivation."

"Don't worry," Rita laughed. "Two, three years, you'll be sleeping through nights again."

"Don't lie to him Rita," Mary admonished. "Six years is more like it."

Troy rolled his eyes. "Compared to Gabriella, I've got it easy. She spends all day with them, looking after their constant needs, whilst trying to maintain a household. And she has an Honors degree in law, so the whole domesticated, stay-at-home thing is giving her some trouble. She watches C-SPAN whilst breast-feeding, and when I'm at work, she calls me every hour to give me the rundown, just to make sure her mental faculties don't completely turn to mush."

"But you come to work and save peoples lives," Carly pointed out. "Being a doctor means little enough sleep as it is."

"Mm. And I notice that Andrea hadn't made my shifts any easier," Troy said darkly. "But anyway. I'm going to sleep again, even if Andrea does catch me in the act. If we get an emergency, wake me with a cattle prod."

Rita nodded, and Troy left.

"I don't know how he does it," Mary said, admiration coloring her voice. "He's nothing like my husband. He used to sleep straight through night-time feeding, and then he'd complain when the noise woke him up."

"Mine would come home and complain about the mess, and ask where the hell his dinner was," Rita told her friend. "One night, I got so pissed off, I handed him a piece of bread and told him to knock himself out."

"What's even more amazing," Carly began, joining the conversation, "is that they're not even his children. I don't know many people who would live without any sleep, and still work this job, for someone else's children. He must love those kids madly."

Mary and Rita exchanged a look.

"Or," Rita said innocently, "He loves their mother madly.

* * *

Troy had just flopped down on the couch in the doctors' lounge, and closed his eyes, when the phone rang. He sat up and groaned.

"What?" he snapped impatiently into the phone.

"I was looking for Troy Bolton, but I think I might have got Adolf Hitler instead," Gabriella said. "Let me guess you're tired?"

"Tired doesn't even begin to cover it. I'm case study in sleep deprivation. I'm thinking of having the interns write a paper on it for extra credit. How are the incubi behaving?"

"Stop calling them incubi!"

He smiled. "How are the babies?"

"Oh you know, same old, same old. Sleeping, eating, crying about wet diapers and hunger and everything else, and all without any consideration for their mother."

"I'll be home in a couple of hours. I'll give you a break - you can take a long bath and relax," he promised her. "You feeding right now?"

"How can you tell?" she asked.

"I can hear it," Troy grinned.

"Owen's eating at the buffet like he's a condemned man and its his last meal. Taylor tells me that Marcus was the same; he camped out at the breast for seven months and left under protest."

"Yeah, but be thankful they're not fussy eaters. Rita was telling me that her youngest daughter Liza had colic and was allergic to breast milk. She couldn't keep anything down."

"Feeding must have been a nightmare," Gabriella sympathized. "I was wondering if you could pick up some diapers. We're all out."

"Sure. And I think we need milk, I used the last of it on my cereal this morning."

Gabriella frowned. "You had cereal yesterday.'

Troy paused. "What's today?" Gabriella was silent. "Ella?"

"I don't have a clue," she finally admitted. "Hang on. Let me try and find the remote." He could hear her rustling around. "There, it was under Maddy's green jumpsuit. Which reminds me, I have to do a load of washing."

"Gabriella, have you been in the laundry lately?"

"No," she said, with hesitation.

"There are about five loads waiting to be done. I was going to get to them yesterday, but I had to do the dishes from last week."

She groaned. "Let me just find out what day it is." The television came on, and Gabriella flicked the channels. "CNN informs me its Thursday. And I'm flicking back over to C-SPAN now."

"Good to know," he said. "So, diapers, milk…anything else?"

"Uh, we don't have bread and if you want to eat tonight, you'll have to buy meat, vegetables, and ice cream for dessert."

"I'll get take-out. Indian?"

"Sure," Gabriella agreed. "Oh, actually no. Could you just get me a salad? I don't think Owen or Maddy would appreciate Rogan Josh-flavored milk."

"Okay, a salad it is." He then heard the sound of one of the twins crying. "Maddy right?" he asked.

"Yeah. How did you know that?" she asked in wonder.

"Are you kidding me? I've been listening to them cry endlessly for five and a half weeks now. I can tell the difference between them from their breathing."

"Yeah, Owen breathes heavier," Gabriella confirmed. "I should probably go and rescue her."

"Okay. I'll see you when I get home." He hung up the phone and collapsed on the couch again. That was when Rita came to collect him an ambulance was pulling up in the emergency bay.

"Just shoot me now," he muttered.

* * *

AN: So I suck for not updating as frequently, but I'm really just trying to make sure the characters stay authentic. Because even though the babies are there and everything seems perfect, the Chad situation hasn't really been resolved. And two newborns are not exactly condusive to a romantic environment... but that being said, I'm working on it and I think everyone will LOVE the upcoming chapters... So thank you so, so, so, so very much for all the reviews and please, please keep it up! 


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own HSM.

The Moments that Count: Chapter Sixteen

It got easier. Not much, but it got easier.

Gabriella and Troy created a routine that allowed them a few hours sleep each night. Troy gave up his dignity and begged Andrea for an easier shift-load. After drawing it out for as long as possible, she moved the hospital schedule around, easing his hours up.

Taylor rang every afternoon and talked to Gabriella - the adult company was good for the brunette, and her friend's advice was invaluable. Sharpay dropped by constantly, bundling the twins up, putting them in their pram and taking Gabriella out for lunch, or morning tea. Leaving the apartment was glorious for Gabriella.

When the twins were nearly two months old, two enormous teddy-bears - one pink, one blue - arrived. There was a note attached, that read: _With Love, Grandma and Grandpa Danforth._

It was awkward, but Gabriella called them and thanked them, and told them about the twins. She promised to visit when they finally went to Albuquerque. Long trips were too difficult right now, but Troy and Gabriella were hoping to get back to their hometown for a weekend sometime soon. She sent photos to the Danforths.

Carly and Dave claimed visiting rights - having delivered at least one of the babies - and dropped by regularly.

Owen was a placid, easy baby. He ate on schedule, burped without trouble, slept for a long time. He was the right size, the right weight and developed all the right skills at the exactly the right time. His curly hair was brown and sparse, and his eyes inexplicably remained blue. He was chubby and round, and Troy and Gabriella loved him because was so docile.

Madeline was a polar opposite. She was little, with a shock of dark hair - too much hair for a baby, Troy thought. Her eyes started brown and stayed that way. She wasn't a difficult baby, but she disrupted the schedule. She wasn't hungry when Owen was, but cried for food thirty minutes later. She didn't sleep well, and woke before her brother. She developed a little faster than Owen, but he acquired some skills before she did. Troy and Gabriella loved her because she was like a fully-formed person. She would look at you, and manage to convey disdain or amusement or understanding.

They were both healthy, though, so when Gabriella came hurtling through the hospital doors early one Thursday morning, both babies in their capsules, Troy was surprised.

"Owen's burning up, and he refused to eat this morning, and I thought that maybe he was grumpy, but then he started screaming. Full-on screaming, and that made Maddy cry, so I came as quickly as I could, and..."

"Gabriella," Troy interrupted. He put his hands on her shoulders. "Calm down. Bring the twins in here."

"I..."

"Come along." In the end, Troy propelled Gabriella into exam room one and cajoled her into sitting down on the end of the bed.

He did a quick examination of Owen, whilst Gabriella hovered behind him, making noises every time Owen moved or made a noise of his own. Madeline, in her capsule beside Owen, watched Troy with curiosity.

"Troy," Gabriella said after ten minutes. "Is it meningitis? He's ill, I just know it. He's..."

"Gabriella," Troy said, turning around and putting his hands on Gabriella's shoulders. "He's got a cold. A common, ordinary cold. It's given him a slight temperature, but it's nothing to worry about. He will be absolutely fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm am absolutely positive."

Gabriella threw her arms around him and burst into noisy sobs. "Oh, thank God."

Troy, bemused, held Gabriella close. "Silly girl. There's no need to be so worried."

"Oh, shut up. I saw your face when I walked through the door. You went straight into panic mode."

"I..." Troy trailed off. He couldn't deny it. "Okay, I did. But I've checked Owen out, and there's nothing wrong with him. Nothing at all."

Gabriella stepped closer. "I just...I get so worried, sometimes. They're so little. And it's just you and me, and really, we can't really protect them. From anything."

Troy rubbed her back. "You need to sit down and have a cup of tea. Let's go into the doctor's lounge."

He settled Gabriella and Owen, who'd fallen asleep. Gabriella didn't seem far behind. Madeline was wide-awake, so Troy decided to take her on rounds with him. Carting the baby on his hips, he went to visit all his patients. Madeline was a definite hit; she cooed with delight at being with her father, and smiled merrily at all the patients.

By the time he finished, Troy had a following of nurses, all in raptures over the little girl. He settled at his desk, Madeline resting against his chest while he did some paperwork. Behind him, on the couch, Gabriella snored softly. Carly and Dave came on at lunch-time, and when Owen woke up, Dave sat in a wheelchair, sat Owen on his lap and wheeled the baby around the corridors.

At one-thirty, Troy was standing at the desk, talking to the gaggle of nurses who were still following he and Madeline around when Gabriella appeared. Her hair was was tousled, and her shirt was rumpled, but she looked much better for the sleep.

"Hey," Troy said, catching sight of her.

"Hey," Gabriella replied, running her hand down Maddy's head. "Hey, sweetheart." She dropped a kiss on Maddy's neck.

"Back at you," Troy grinned, dropping a kiss on Gabriella's forehead.

Gabriella swatted him away, then looked at the group of women around him. "You're the leader of a cult? When did this happen?"

One of the nurses laughed. "We've been following your daughter around all morning. She's gorgeous."

"Thank you," Gabriella smiled.

"She looks just like you," the same nurse commented. "The same eyes."

"But Owen doesn't take after you," one of the interns added, looking at Troy. "Except the blue eyes. Their coloring is much darker."

"Uh...no."

"Well, either way, you're a great Dad. She's just so happy with you," the first nurse said, watching the way Madeline kept grabbing hold of Troy's ear and hair.

Dave streaked past with Owen in the wheelchair, and Gabriella reached out to slow them down. "Hand my son over. I have to feed him."

Dave gave Owen one last bounce and passed him to Gabriella. "I should probably go and do some real work anyway. It's been fun Owen. See ya round."

"Troy, follow me," Gabriella said snappily.

Troy signed a chart, and trailed after Gabriella to the doctor's lounge. It didn't take any great powers of deduction to sense that Gabriella was in a bad mood about something.

"Gabriella," Troy began softly.

"Give Maddy to me," Gabriella instructed.

Troy frowned. "Don't you want to feed Owen first?"

"Just...hand her over. She's mine, isn't she?"

Troy's eyebrow shot up. "Ah...sure."

He began to hand Madeline over, but Gabriella couldn't shift Owen properly to make room, and he started to complain about it. Maddy whimpered and tried to hold on to Troy by his ear.

Gabriella suddenly burst into tears.

Troy scooped Madeline back up, and steered Gabriella towards the couch.

"What's going on, Ella?"

She kept sobbing. "All I...ever...seem...to do...is...cry," Gabriella managed to get out in a broken voice. "I just...I keep leaking liquid. I mean, look at this!"

Two wet spots had appeared on her blouse.

"I can't...have a good cry without...milk going everywhere," she hiccupped.

"That's normal," Troy told her. "Uncomfortable, but normal. I don't think your leakiness is the thing that's upsetting you."

"I can't do this alone," Gabriella wailed. "I can't. I wanted to. I wanted to make you see, but I...I can't."

"Make me see what?"

"That I could do it alone!" she repeated. "Keep up, Troy."

"I...I don't understand, Gabriella. You don't have to do this alone."

"Yes, I do. I'm a single mother, Troy. Note the single part. You're not going to be here forever."

"We've been through this before, Gabriella, and I told you..."

"That was before the twins were born. It's just...it's so much harder than it looks, Troy. I'm tired, all the time. I'm tired, and impatient, and every time I turn around, they want something from me. Food, comfort, love. And you're so...you're so fabulous, Troy. You are. But you're going to leave me, one day."

Troy hooked an arm around Gabriella's shoulder, and didn't say a word until her body stopped shaking and shuddering, and she'd cried herself out.

"Why am I going to leave?" he finally asked.

"Chad did," Gabriella said in a soft voice. Her head was tucked under Troy's chin. "I have to be ready for you to leave. But I'm getting too attached to having you around. I can't do this on my own. And I have to find a way to do it, because you will leave and then I'll be royally screwed, and I'll have never have enough time for the kids, and they'll end up as juvenile delinquents."

"Gabriella..."

"No, don't make some hollow promise. Don't promise to always stay. You can't make that promise."

"Okay. I won't."

"Good."

There was a pause, and Troy said, "You're not alone. It's okay to depend on me."

"It's really not."

"Is this about before? With those nurses? Because I'm not interested in any of them."

"That's not the point," Gabriella sighed. "And you can't promise that either. I'm just...I'm terrified that I'll wake up one morning and find you gone."

"Not going to happen."

"You can't.."

"I can. I've got so much crap, it'd take me weeks to move out. You'll have plenty of warning time."

"Well...good."

Gabriella tipped her chin up. "I should probably feed them."

"They can wait a few minutes. You just...you just sit here with me."

Gabriella snuggled back into Troy's body. "Why?"

"Because, I'm terrified I'll wake up one morning and find the three of you gone."

And Gabriella realized she hadn't even thought of Troy's fears.

* * *

AN: So I suck pretty bad huh? Make you wait a while and then post a super-short chapter? I'm so, so sorry! But things have been pretty crazy busy around here lately, but the good news is I'm almost done with the next chapter and it should be up super soon! So if you haven't forgotten about me or the story go ahead and make my day and read and review so I can thank you for all the wonderful reviews when I post the next chapter tomorrow or the next day! And thanks a million billion trillion zillion to those that reviewed the last chapter and are still here! 


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I wish I may… I wish I might

The Moments that Count: Chapter Seventeen

TWO MONTHS LATER

Troy had Sunday off, and woke at about seven-thirty. Rising early was an unbreakable habit one he'd picked up long before the babies. He just couldn't sleep-in anymore, and he found that too much sleep made him groggy.

He crept into the baby's room, and found Madeline staring mesmerized at her bright, glittery butterfly mobile. It had been a gift from Sharpay, who constantly dropped by, barely talking to Troy and Gabriella, but cooing over the babies instead. Owen was still fast asleep.

"Your brother's going to be a sleeper," Troy whispered to the little girl. "You ready to get up yet?"

She fixed her eyes him, focusing furiously. Then she recognized him, because her hands reached out, trying to find his. Troy gave her his finger, then lifted her out of her cradle.

As he usually did, he read Maddy the New York Times "may as well start their education early," he reasoned, when Gabriella and Sharpay mocked him. He ate his breakfast, promising her that the joys of solid foods weren't too far off in the future. To his surprise, she remained awake. Usually, both Maddy and Owen stayed awake long enough to eat or have their nappies changed and then caught up on all the sleep they were taking away from Troy and Gabriella.

This morning though, she kept looking at him, her eyes flickering madly, her little hand still hooked around his forefinger. The little parts of her body never ceased to amaze him; her fingers were tiny, her fingernails minuscule. Her nose sent him into raptures; her feet made him smile; the smooth texture of skin astounded him; and her eyes, as verdant and deep as Gabriella's, made him ache.

Morning, Gabriella greeted him, bearing Owen. I was hoping you'd have her. It was that or somebody had kidnapped her and left Owen behind.

Troy rubbed his nose against Maddy's forehead and she squealed with delight. "What a silly Mommy! Of course Madeline would be with me. You're a Daddy's girl, aren't you?"

Gabriella rolled her eyes. "I think I'll have to call in an exorcist to remove your evil spirit from Maddy's body".

"Mommy's just tired," Troy told Madeline reassuringly. "She doesn't really mean that."

"I never thought I'd see this side of you," Gabriella told him, reaching around his back to collect the front section of the paper. "The sappily, pathetically, madly in love Troy."

"I know. I'm considering therapy and shock treatment. I think I've developed a disorder of some kind. What do you say we go to the park today?"

"Sure," Gabriella agreed. "You have a shower and I'll feed them. Then I'll have a shower and you can get them organized."

"Okay," Troy agreed, going to the fridge for the milk. Already covering the fridge door were countless photos of Owen and Madeline sleeping in their cots, in Gabriella's arms, and in the bath. Troy insisted on taking so many that he nearly drove Gabriella crazy. "We'll leave in about forty-five minutes."

* * *

An hour and a half later, they crossed the lights at 59th and into Central Park. It had taken a little longer than they'd expected to get ready. Even after three months, neither of them had grown used to the amount of gear it required to take the twins anywhere.

Sundays were always busy in the park, but because the warm weather had arrived in full force, nearly everybody in New York City had decided to put on their summer clothes and enjoy the sunshine.

They entered the park near Tavern on the Green, where the final few of last nights revelers were shielding their eyes against the stabbing sunlight and trying not to fall over as they emerged from the bar. There were cyclists, joggers, roller bladers, other parents pushing prams, some dragging impatient and whiny toddlers along, people walking their dogs, a few even walking their cats.

Groups were dotted on the Great Lawn as it led down to the Top Lake. Extended families, friends, groups of rowdy teenagers who made a lot of noise to over-compensate for their lack of self-esteem; cool college kids; affectionate couples who were remarkably close to being arrested for indecent exposure.

Troy could see some kind of sculpture display over near the Top Lake and a tai chi class taking place near the Boathouse Restaurant. Some kind of theatre rehearsal was taking place in the amphitheatre, although the actors were mere dots from this far away.

"Shakespeare in the Park" will be starting again soon, he noted.

"Mm," Gabriella agreed. "We'll have a look for the dates. And well have to find someone to baby-sit for us."

"I'd like to suggest Dave and Carly for the job."

She eyeballed him. "You're kidding, right? They'd spend the entire evening making out with each other."

"Well, actually they'd… yeah, you're right," Troy admitted. "They're still in that can't keep their hands off each other stage.

"I loved that stage," Gabriella grinned, remembering. "Although, Chad and I didn't really have that stage."

"You think?"

"Yeah. I mean, sure, right in the very beginning, but Chad was never hung up with touching me all the time. Its funny, for the last few years of our relationship, you touched me more than he did."

Troy shrugged, slightly uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. "Yeah, but, as you've pointed out on occasion, I'm a tactile person. I need to have physical contact with others. Being comfortable with touching other people, casually, intimately, or whatever, means being comfortable with being touched yourself. Chad was an only child when you have siblings, you never have personal space, and I guess he never learnt that lesson."

"When you have siblings, you don't even have personal time. Here a good enough spot?"

Troy looked around. They were on a space near the top corner of the lawn above the lake, under a massive elm tree. Sunlight filtered down through the leaves, and he nodded. "Looks great to me."

They sat on an old rug, Madeline and Owen asleep again. Instead of complaining, Gabriella started doing the Sunday crossword, and Troy opened up a book he'd been reading since the twins were born. He'd had so little time it had taken him nearly three months to read roughly a hundred and fifty pages.

After about twenty minutes, Gabriella looked up at Troy. "He never understood that, you know."

Troy, still deeply engrossed in his novel, stared at her. "And the winner of today's non-sequitur award is Miss Gabriella Montez.

"Sorry, I'm talking about Chad. He never understood why you used to touch me all the time, for no particular reason. It used to drive him insane with jealousy."

He frowned, noting the page number and putting his book down. "He never said anything to me about it."

"No, he used to pretend that it didn't bother him, because that's what Chad does. But he'd always mention it to me, off-hand and casually, as if it were some kind of novelty. He'd always ask why."

"What did you say?" Troy seemed genuinely curious.

"I told him he was being stupid. That you touched me no more or less than you ever had, and no more or less than you touched anybody else around you. But he used to say that it was too intimate, the way we were."

"Were?"

"Are," Gabriella corrected, without hesitation. "Even Sharpay and Taylor have mentioned to me."

"That we're too intimate for people who are just friends, not lovers?" Gabriella nodded. "Do you think we are?" he asked. It had never occurred to him that it might bother her. She never seemed to stiffen at his touch, or shrug it away in discomfort. In fact, she usually leaned into it.

"No. It's never the impression I get from you when you touch me. It's not about physical intimacy. Do you think that?"

Troy lay back on the rug, tucking one of his hands under his head. "I never said anything to you about this, but when Chad wasn't at home when he was filming or at practice I felt much more comfortable with you, with being around and touching you. I didn't feel like I was being judged. Our relationship seemed much easier- much more legitimate when he wasn't there."

"And when he came home," Gabriella continued, "It felt awkward, and strained. Like we had to hold back with each other, not make private jokes or talk about things that had happened when he wasn't there. We couldn't do things alone, or without Chad that sort of thing. Not because of us, but because of him. I used to feel, in some bizarre way, like he was intruding on something we had. Like we had something that should have just been for us."

"I think he felt it too," Troy mused. "Like he was the outsider. He'd come home, and he'd make a big fuss, and take you out somewhere, and fawn all over you, and make it perfectly clear that I was supposed to be the third wheel in our threesome, not him."

Gabriella laid back as well, resting her head against his shoulder without thinking. They both started and then relaxed, smiling sheepishly.

"Makes you self-conscious," Troy voiced their thoughts.

"I asked him about a month before we broke up," Gabriella said. "I got sick of hearing him drop hints about how close we were. So I just asked him: Are you jealous of Troy? He looked at me, and he said: I'm jealous that you always go to him without even thinking about coming to me."

"He was his own worst-enemy though," Troy pointed out. "He used to try and create divisions between all of us. Like it was you and him in a special club, and me just tagging along, because I had no other friends and Chad felt sorry for me. It was a little like that from the time we were kids and it just got older as it got worse. It didn't matter if I was the better basketball player or more people liked me- he was always the leader. The guy that controls the situation."

"So when did it happen?" Gabriella asked. "When did Chad become the outsider?"

"First year of college," Troy answered, after some thought.

"Annabelle Hale," Gabriella said, invoking the name quietly, lest the woman suddenly appear. "How well I remember."

"I could never understand why you forgave him for that. If the person I loved had an affair with someone else… I'd be pissed as hell, and I'd never forgive them in a million years."

"At that point in time, I couldn't see myself being with anybody else but Chad. It was bad enough I'd moved to the biggest city in America, and had just started college; I couldn't handle an identity crisis of being out there on my own. It was just easier to forgive him."

"I don't think it was the fact that he cheated on you that he became the outsider," Troy said. "It was because you talked to me about it, and confided to me. That I suddenly knew a part of you that he never would."

"I could hardly talk to Chad about the fact that he'd been cheating on me. And talking to Sharpay or Taylor required more money than I had because they were both so far away."

"But from then on, there was always that slight edge between you and Chad. You and he weren't conscious of it all the time, but I was. You'd do things that seemed insignificant, but they were actually really important. You'd sit next to me on the couch, or side with me when we picked restaurants and movies. You'd tell me your semester results first; you'd ask me for help first; you'd ask my opinion on things first, or tell me your news first. It took me years to notice that it was happening."

Gabriella nodded. "I was conscious of it at first. After he and I made up, and I forgave him, I still had to punish him slightly, and well, I sort of used you to do that. I went out of my way to make him feel like you were more important to me. But then, it just became second nature, and you did become more important to me. I disengaged from Chad, and found that I much preferred your company."

"I can't imagine why," Troy said in mock self-depreciation.

"I can," Gabriella said, perfectly serious. "You never once said I had to be somebody different from who I really was. You never put me in a box, labeled me and put me away, then acted so shocked when I did something outside of that box. You made me laugh, all the time, and it didn't feel fake, like it did with Chad, for those first few months after Annabelle."

Troy wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into his side. "You made me feel important. You made me feel like I was worthy of something, and you did it without us having to be in a romantic relationship. You chose me for your best friend, over Chad, who, my whole life, was always above me. Well, he may not have actually been above me, but he always acted above me. He was the leading man and I was the sidekick, even if some people thought otherwise."

Gabriella shook her head. "No. God no, Troy. I love Chad, and I always will. But, Troy, you were always smarter than him, more creative, funnier, savvier, more courageous, more honest, you had more integrity, more dignity, more loyalty, and more compassion. But the thing that always made you a better person than him, was that you never called him on being a lesser person than you, you merely let him believe that he was better."

"Brie, you don't have say those things."

"Yeah I do," she countered. "Because I know you feel like we're in some kind of limbo here. We have two kids, but we're not anything to each other except friends. Yet, we're so much more than that and you know it. I can't put a label on what we are. But I know that you make me happy, that you make me laugh, and maybe we aren't romantically involved, but for the last seven years of my life, you have been the person I've wanted to raise children with."

"Well, I've never wanted anyone else but you to be the mother of my children."

She smiled. "Thanks. And I think that's enough Hallmark sentiment for the rest of the year. You and I never have done sappy well."

"No," Troy agreed. "And I haven't felt like we were in limbo. I just knew that you needed some time before we had this conversation."

"Yeah. Thanks for letting me have it."

Gabriella and Troy lay there for a few minutes longer, before Madeline started crying.

Troy went to collect her. "Wasn't the peace nice while it lasted?"

* * *

AN: So how's that for a chapter? Let me know what you think, I hope I'm shedding more light on the situation without laying it all out on the line and making Troy and Gabriella have some completely unrealistic coming together. Anyways, thank you so much for all the great reviews! Nothing makes me want to write/update more then seeing the reveiws, so keep it up! 


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: Not Mine

The Moments that Count: Chapter Eighteen

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

"Happy Birthday dear Maddy and Owen. Happy Birthday to you."

The loud and tuneless rendition of Happy Birthday finished.

"Okay, lets blow out your candle, Owen," Troy said, looking down at his son. The little boy was mesmerized by the flickering flame. "Just like" Troy blew on it. "That."

Gabriella repeated the process with Madeline. Both Madeline and Owen seemed to gather that they were the center of attention, because they were acting their cutest. They'd been grinning and laughing all afternoon; Owen had trotted out his three words: No, More, and Mommy, or something that sounded roughly the same, and Madeline had produced her perfect Daddy, and Now.

Taylor claimed Madeline, and Carly grabbed Owen, and the rest of the guests milled about the apartment, waiting whilst Gabriella cut the cake, and Troy started to clear the dishes. They met up in the kitchen.

"Do you know where our children are?" Troy asked Gabriella.

"Not a clue. I think Dave stole Maddy from Taylor, and Sharpay had one of them last time I looked."

"Oh, good. I keep losing track of them."

"As long as we get them back at the end of the day, relatively unscathed," Gabriella shrugged, cutting the last piece of Madeline's chocolate cake, and starting on Owen's sponge, "I don't mind."

Troy opened the dishwasher and started stacking it. "I can't believe its been a year since they were born."

"I know. Its terrifying isn't it? If this is how fast year goes by, they'll be eighteen and off to college before we can even assimilate the fact that they speak English."

"It goes too quickly," Troy commented, touching the small of her back. "I feel like I'm missing it."

"It does go quickly," Gabriella answered, knowing that Troy hated having to work so much. "But you're here for the important things."

Carly appeared in the doorway, in a stunning bright red gabardine dress. "Hey guys."

"Hey Carly," Gabriella replied. "How are things between you and Dave, by the way?"

Carly smiled stupidly, despite herself. "My family adores him. I swear, I spent my entire Christmas watching my sisters flirt with him. And now that he's working up in the OB, and I'm specializing in trauma treatment, nobody can say that us dating is against hospital policy."

"I'm happy for you."

"Not as happy as Troy, he won the pot on when we'd get together," Carly said darkly.

Troy grinned devilishly. "Yes, I did. And the money came in handy. Thank you very much, Carly."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "You're unbelievable, Troy. But I was actually wondering where the bathroom was."

"Back down the hall, towards the front door, first door on your left. Opposite the bomb-site," Troy told her.

"Otherwise known as the baby's bedroom," Gabriella translated for her.

"Thanks."

As Carly left, Kelsi entered, bearing Owen on one hip. "Can I take him home with me, and eat him up with a spoon? Pretty please?" she asked, twirling the boy around the room.

"Yes," Troy said, as Gabriella said, "No."

Gabriella rolled her eyes. "You favor Maddy so obviously. And Owen can tell, you know. He knows you love Madeline more. He'll grow up always feeling like he's not important to his father."

"Not true," Troy denied immediately. "And you know it."

"Yeah, I do. I was teasing," Gabriella said, blowing a kiss in his direction in apology. "I'm just saying"

"I love them equally. I just always wanted a little girl to spoil rotten. Besides, Kelsi, if you really want, you can have Maddy as well. Gabriella and I would welcome the respite for a couple of days."

"I think Sharpay has dibs on her. Besides, she's a little bit too much like you for my liking."

Gabriella started laughing. "She is, isn't she?"

Kelsi nodded, and twirled back out into the living room. Sharpay brought in some more dirty dishes for Troy, helping him scrap the leftovers into the bin.

"So, ah, guys" Sharpay began, hesitating before she began again. "I have something to tell you, only I don't really want to, because you're not going to like it, but I think need to know."

"You're marrying that artist you've been dating?" Troy guessed.

Gabriella rolled her eyes. "She broke up with him three weeks ago. Now she's dating some guy she met at the restaurant."

"You're dating the clientele?" he asked Sharpay with a dubious expression on his face. "Isn't that like… a conflict of interest or something?"

"How could it possibly be a conflict of interest Troy?" Sharpay replied.

"I don't know. It'd be like me dating one of my patients."

"You have dated patients in the past," Gabriella pointed out.

"And look how badly that turned out every time," Troy retorted. "There's a reason you don't date the people you look after."

"Well, you certainly didn't see the error of your ways when you dated a veritable parade of patients, nurses and other doctors," Gabriella shrugged.

Troy paused. "Oh, yeah." He hurried on. "What did you want to tell us, Sharpay?"

Sharpay prevaricated before simply blurting it out. "I… ah… I bumped into Chad the other day."

Gabriella and Troy stilled momentarily, before resuming their tasks, as if it was perfectly normal news and didn't have them worried at all.

"Really?" Troy asked, attempting to sound nonchalant and failing miserably.

"Yeah. Up in the Village. We had lunch. He was only staying in the city overnight, he's based out of Los Angeles at the moment, shooting a couple TV pilots."

"Sounds like his career's picking up then," Gabriella observed. "He must be thrilled."

"He says he's doing okay for himself. Dreamworks are seriously considering him for one of their scripts at the moment, although he doesn't know if he'll actually get to star or just be supporting. He looked really good. Tanned, happy, successful. It was actually kind of irritating. But he asked after you."

"After Gabriella?" Troy clarified, hunting around in the cupboard for the dishwashing detergent.

"Yeah. And you too, Troy. Wanted to know how you both were. How things were turning out."

"What did you say?"

"I told him that you were good, happy, that things were just fine with you, that you were both working really hard. He also asked after Maddy and Owen."

This time both Troy and Gabriella did freeze, Gabriella almost cutting her finger off with the butcher's knife. Troy took the knife out of her hand and laid it on the board.

"Oh," Gabriella managed, knowing her voice sounded stilted and wary. "What did you tell him?"

"Not much, Sharpay shrugged. "Just that they were healthy and happy, and growing up beautifully. He wanted to know if I had any pictures with me. I told him that I didn't."

"But you do," Troy said, knowing she had thousands of them in her wallet. Aunty Sharpay took her role very seriously.

"Yeah. I got the feeling that he wasn't just asking to be polite, or to make conversation, or because he wanted to know if his kids were okay. You know how Chad gets that look in his eye, and its not totally innocent?"

"What do you mean?" Gabriella asked carefully.

"I got the distinct feeling that there was… something there. That he was pushing an agenda. That there was a reason behind the questions that made me a little suspicious. There was just… something."

Gabriella and Troy exchanged a worried look. "You don't think he'd try to…" Troy trailed off. "Sue for custody, or something, do you?"

Gabriella's eyes turned almost black. "I don't know, Troy. It doesn't seem like him. He's certainly shown no interest in the twins before, and I can't think why he'd suddenly want them now."

"I'm sure its nothing," Sharpay said hurriedly, as Carly returned from the bathroom. "Yeah," Troy said, with a deep frown on his face.

AN: Thank you so, so, so, much for all of the reviews. It continues to blow my mind that people are interested in my story, so I really do appreciate it when you review and it makes me want to write faster and throw in more twists... or at the very least suspicious behavior... like Chad's. Anyways, thanks again and keep it up please!


	19. Chapter 19

AN: Wow. That's all I can really say. I am unbelievably overwhelmed by the amount of feedback I recieved, when I deserved none of it. Thank you so, so, so much! So here is the new chapter... Let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: Still not mine...

THREE MONTHS LATER

It was twilight, and Troy had pulled the nightshift and finished up at the hospital at eleven o'clock that morning. He'd collected the twins from the Happy Days Day Care on 51st Street, to whom Gabriella and Troy paid extortionate sums for Owen and Maddy to be looked after from eight o'clock every morning until either Troy or Gabriella picked them up.

They'd slept whilst he cleaned the house, Gabriella had been conducting a RICO trial for the past nine days and they'd fallen behind on the washing and the housecleaning. By the time that he finished scrubbing the shower grouts and folding up piles and piles of baby clothes, Maddy was wide-awake and loudly demanding food. Owen was beginning to stir from his deep slumber.

Like Troy had predicted, Owen was a boy who enjoyed his sleep, and had been the first to start sleeping through nights. Madeline, of the two, was the one who fretted more, and they'd had to wait until she was nearly ten months old until she'd started regularly sleeping through.

"Come on sleepyhead," Troy said, tickling Owens little foot. Owen started to wake and glared at his father. "Sorry, O," he said, not meaning it for a moment.

He took them into the kitchen, keeping up a running commentary about the various patients he'd seen that morning, whilst Owen and Madeline paid no attention to him.

"I'm home," Gabriella called from the hallway, just as Troy started to put the dinner on.

"We're in the kitchen," he called back to her.

"Mommy!" Owen and Maddy cried out joyfully when she walked into the room.

Gabriella kissed them both. "Hello sweethearts." She reached up and kissed Troy. "How was your day?"

"Good," he answered. "And yours?"

"We finished up this afternoon; we're making closing statements tomorrow morning."

"How do you think its going?"

Gabriella was pulling her shoes off. "Okay. The defense made some inroads with the witness he seemed kind of vague up there, and his memory is conveniently spotty. But my cross-examination on their psychologists was pretty brutal, so we're even, really."

"Quick guess?"

She tilted her head. "Us, but with a minimal sentence. Which is fine by me. The whole case is a load of crap anyway. It was a favor for the Mayor, who has some beef against Michaels; something about their time back in college together. Who the hell knows? It's typically stupid macho nonsense."

"Thanks," Troy responded dryly.

"Oh, I didn't mean men in general. Just the Mayor and Commissioner Michaels. It's men in politics, really. They start power tripping, and it always ends badly. What's for dinner?"

Troy threw the onions into the pan, listening to them hiss and sizzle. "Chicken caciatorre. Is that to your satisfaction, madam?"

"Yes good sir. Ill just go and get changed. I can't wait to get out of these stockings."

Gabriella returned five minutes later in a pair of worn jeans and one of Troy's old shirts that she'd commandeered over the years. Troy had given up protesting; she'd used his shirts when breastfeeding, because they were loose. And now, no matter how many times they'd since been washed, they still smelt like breast milk and Gabriella.

Gabriella pulled Owen onto her knee and made faces him, much to the boys delight. "There's something we need to discuss."

Troy threw her a worried look. "That doesn't sound good. Is this the part where you tell me you're pregnant again?"

She threw him a dirty look. "No. And I'd call the National Enquirer first- it'd be Immaculate Conception."

"So what's wrong?"

"I've been thinking lately… about things."

"Sounds promising."

"Shut up! I think we need to discuss our long-term plans."

Troy added the meat to the pan. "Ah. Would you like a glass of wine?"

"Yes, thanks. I think we need to talk about moving out of the apartment. Realistically, Maddy and Owen are going to be walking and running around soon and there's just not enough space."

"You're right," Troy agreed, without preamble. Both of them had noticed how cramped and crowded the apartment had been since Maddy and Owen had been born. "Do you want to start looking for a bigger apartment?" He handed her a glass of wine.

She took a sip. "That's just it. We both love New York, right?"

"Sure," Troy answered.

"It's a wonderful city, and we've lived here for nearly eight years now. But is it really a place to raise two children, though?"

He stirred the meat and sipped his own wine. "Its no more dangerous than anywhere else these days. We could move into the suburbs, I suppose."

"Do you really want to?" Gabriella asked, knowing the answer.

"No," he answered, looking down at his feet. "I want to raise my children the way we were raised. I want them to live outside of all this hustle and bustle. I don't necessarily want to go back to Albuquerque, but maybe a place like Austin, which is nearby. We can both move with our jobs, and Austin' s got some nice places to live- good schools."

Gabriella smiled. "Great minds think alike, huh?"

Troy sat down at the table next to her. "Yeah, I guess they do. It's a big step, though, Gabriella. It involves a mortgage, and financial commitments, and its long-term, and involves lots of questions about how we want to raise the twins. And, more than that, it means making a commitment to each other that's different from what we have now."

"I've been thinking about that too, Troy." She now seemed to hesitate. "There's something I need to tell you... I think… I think we keep talking about this, don't we? About the nature of our relationship?"

"Yes," Troy acknowledged. "Only because its so strange and unusual."

"You think? I think there might be other reasons."

Troy turned slowly, until he was looking at her. Her tone of voice had alerted him. "What do you mean, Brie?"

Her eyes shone. "I'm… well, the thing is, I think I'm…" But the doorbell, however, sounded, interrupting Gabriella. "God damnit," she said exasperatedly. "It's probably Mormons or something."

"Go, answer the door. We can talk in a minute. What you need to tell me can wait, right?"

She shot him a strange look that made his insides twist together. "Not really, but anyway."

"Tell them were Satanists and it's against our religious practices to listen to good," Troy suggested.

"No, that'd only make them work harder to convert me to their religion." She stood and put Owen back in his high chair. "Maybe I'll tell them were Christian Scientologists."

"Nah, tell em were Jewish and your gorgeous husband will put the evil eye on them unless they leave you alone." Gabriella started down the hall, calling behind her, "I'm not going to lie to Mormons and tell them you're gorgeous, Bolton. It's just wrong, and against my religion."

"You're really just a horrible woman, Gabriella."

"I know. It's why we get along so well."

"I could respond to such heinous insults, but I choose not to," Troy said snootily.

"Aren't you just the paragon of good behavior," was Gabriella last comment.

Then he heard the door open as he added the tomato sauce and red wine, and lowered the stove to simmer. The murmur of voices drifted down the hallway into the kitchen.

Then Troy turned around to the twins, who were touching each other's faces and pressing against the smooth skin. Owen and Madeline were completely entranced by each other, and Maddy had just learnt to say Owen, so she regularly trumpeted the word to whoever would listen.

"Come on guys," Troy said, "Let's get you ready for the bath. Who's going first tonight huh?"

They stared up at him.

"Somebody has to go first, and I don't want to be forced to make the choice. Somebody just do the right thing here and volunteer willingly."

"Daddy," Madeline finally answered.

"Madeline it is," Troy grinned, swooping down and collecting her. "Behave while I'm gone, Owen." He began walking down the hall, rubbing his nose against Maddy's forehead. "Madeline Abigail Montez, Daddy's pride and joy, you've won yourself a free twenty minutes of uncensored access to Dr. Troy Bolton in the bathroom. What do you have to say about this enormous honor?"

"Troy," Gabriella said quietly from the doorway.

"Daddy," Maddy cried as he looked up.

"Chad," Troy said as he froze on the spot.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: Not mine. Never has been. Probably never will be... sigh.

The Moments that Count: Chapter Twenty

"Hello Troy," Chad said congenially. "How are you?"

"I'm…" Troy looked at Gabriella, who was blankly returning the gaze. "I'm- I'm good… thank you Chad. I think. How are you?"

"Great," the boy answered. "Have I come at a bad time?"

"Well… no…" Gabriella trailed off. "I suppose not. Would you… why don't you come in?"

Chad stepped into the hallway. "Thanks. I think it's about to rain."

"Mm." Gabriella swung her gaze back to Troy. "Why don't you get on with bathing Maddy?"

"Uh… yeah, sure." Troy nodded. "Owen's in the kitchen. Do you want to me get him?"

"Would you?" Gabriella bit her lower lip. "Chad and I, we'll be in the living room. Chad?" She gestured for Chad to precede her. He began walking down the hallway, whilst Gabriella sent Troy a look that was half-desperate, half-confused.

"It'll be fine," he murmured to her, heading for the kitchen. He didn't really believe it, but he had to say it.

Gabriella hurried to catch up to Chad. "Would you like something to drink? Eat?" she asked him.

"No, no, I'm fine, thanks." He looked around the living room. "Well, this place looks a little different."

Gabriella looked around at the baby paraphernalia. Toys; clothes; books; and bottles lay strewn about the room. "Yes. I guess we hadn't really noticed." She rubbed her sweaty palms on her pants. "So, uh, how have you been?" She frowned. "I've already asked you that, haven't I?"

Chad smiled. "Yes, you have. And I've already answered. I suppose you want to know what I'm doing here."

"Well… yea, actually, I do. I mean, Sharpay told us that she saw you about three months ago."

"We bumped into each other and had coffee. It was nice. She told me the twins were turning one."

"We had their party a few weeks after she saw you."

He looked at her. "I remember what day they were born, Gab."

"Of course you do, Chad." She gestured to the couch. "Why don't we take a seat?"

Chad sat, as did Gabriella, but she carefully maintained the distance between them. "Are you back permanently now?"

He shook his head. "No. I've just been doing some work with a producer who lives out here. I wanted to come and see you three months ago, but I wasn't… I didn't know if I should."

A squeal echoed down the bathroom and Chad started with surprise, whilst Gabriella smiled softly. "Owen gets pretty excited about his bath." Another giggle ridden squeal drifted to the living room. "Troy usually encourages him."

"Oh." Chad nodded. "I see. Anyway, how have you really been?"

"Great. Really great. I love- I love being a mother. Its stressful and tiring, particularly with two of them and a full-time job."

"I can imagine."

A streak of annoyance shot through Gabriella's body. How could Chad possibly imagine? She ignored it, though. "Troy's been wonderful." She recognized the remark as a deliberate stab at Chad.

"He promised me he'd take care of you."

Gabriella shook her head decisively. "No. This is not some wife-swapping deal. This isn't about you asking Troy to take care of me because you love me more. Troy stayed because he wanted to stay."

Chad released his breath. "You and Troy aren't together, right? Or at least, when I saw Sharpay, I got the impression that you weren't."

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and evenly replied, "No, we're not together. Not like that, anyway."

"I never did think you two would end up together."

"Really?" Gabriella's eyes flashed. "And why was that?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "You never seemed to mesh. Whenever I saw you two together… it seemed… awkward."

"Well, Chad, did you ever stop to think that it was awkward because you were there?"

Chad frowned in confusion. Then he ignored it and moved on, because he could ignore things he didn't like as easily as he could breathe or blink. "Of course not. How's work been?"

"Fine. My boss is disappointed that I decided to have children at this point in my life. It's put a spanner in my career, apparently, which he doesn't like." She snorted. "Like I give a fuck."

"You use that language around our children?"

Gabriella raised an eyebrow. "Of course I dont use that language around my children." She didn't deliberately emphasize the pronoun, but the deliberate difference wasn't lost on Chad.

Chad sighed. "I'm sorry about… everything. About leaving. I was so confused. He stood up and walked to the window. I didn't know what I wanted, and it was so much responsibility, so fast. I'd never even thought about children- we'd certainly never discussed it. We were just almost ready to get married, Gab. And I just couldn't cope with the whole idea. So, I left. I ran away, because I couldn't get my head around it. That was the wrong thing to do." He twisted back to her, wearing a truly genuine expression. "You needed me, you needed my support, and I was too selfish to put aside my own fears and help you. I really am sorry for that."

"I know you are," Gabriella replied. "I know you're sorry for leaving me." But she knew what was coming, so she waited. It was almost ridiculous how predictable Chad was.

They heard excited shrieking again- Madeline this time and the splash of water.

"And I've been miserable without you," Chad continued. "I had no one to talk to about work; no one to come home to; no one to laugh with; no one to curl up with in bed, on a rainy Sunday and watch old movies with. No one who knew me; knew about my life. No one who truly understood me. Without you, I don't care about anything. None of it matters to me without you."

There was another shriek, and then the low, familiar murmur of Troy laughing and saying something to one of their children.

"I can't- Chad, what do you want?"

He returned to her side, eagerly grasping her hands. "You. It's always been you, Gabriella. I want to chance to do it right. Start again. Fix everything that I screwed up, because God knows I screwed up big time."

"And the twins?"

Chad smiled. "Them too."

"Owen!" she heard Troy exclaim, followed by more splashing, and then more laughter.

"They have names. They aren't them, or it. They have names Madeline and Owen."

"I know what their names are," Chad half-frowned.

"Then use them."

"You, and Madeline and Owen then. I want us to be a family. I think no, I know I'm ready to do this."

Gabriella's eyes narrowed. "What are their full names?"

His brow crinkled. "What?"

"What are their full names?"

Chad flushed with embarrassment. "I don't, I don't remember. You never - nobody ever told me. But don't you see?" he hurriedly continued. "These are the things I'm ready to learn. Because I want you in my life."

"Owen Troy Montez. And Madeline Abigail Montez. Owen likes to have his ankles rubbed when he goes to sleep. He refuses to eat pears, and birds fascinate him. His first word was Mommy, and he has your eyes. Madeline likes music all kinds. She's the spitting image of me, right down to her dark eyes. She claps when she wants your attention and I swear she already knows how to read. Maddy's mouth puckers up when she's sad. Troy is her sun, moon and stars, Chad. She loves that man like a crazy girl."

Chad tightened his grip on her hands. "Those are the things I want to learn. I know I've missed important things, but I'm… you and I are made for each other. We have two children, for God's sake. You can't just ignore that."

From the bathroom, she heard Maddy's familiar cry: "Daddy!"

She shook her head slightly. Everything suddenly made sense. "We never did any of those things. We never snuggled up on a rainy Sunday and watched old movies. We never laughed together, certainly not at the end." Gabriella caught his chin in her hand, trying to make him understand. "And it's not about me, anyway. It's not about you and I being perfect for each other. We're a package deal Chad. You have to be perfect for those kids, because they are my whole world. And I don't doubt that you'll be a good father one day. But not to Maddy and Owen. You walked away. You had your reasons, but you walked away." She bit her lower lip. "Troy didn't. They weren't his children, but he stayed. And it wasn't just out of loyalty to me. It was loyalty to two babies he'd never met; two children he didn't make. But he knows all those things about them… he named Maddy."

"I know that, Gabriella. But it doesn't mean you and I can't make this work."

"But it does, Chad. We could try - I could move to LA and give it a shot. But it wouldn't be real. It'd be my guilt - I would feel obligated to give you a chance. It wouldn't be real Chad, and we'd both try too hard and settle for a lie, and it would end badly. I can't do that to my children. I can't do that to you. And I can't put myself through that kind of angst." She paused. "Maddy's first word was Daddy, and she meant Troy, and that has to mean something."

"I don't…" Chad trailed off. His shoulders slumped and his mouth tightened. "It's always been about Troy."

"No, it hasn't." Gabriella smiled crookedly. "That's the stupidest thing about my life. I should have always been about Troy, but I got so caught up in this obligation and familiarity with you that I didn't see what was right under my nose. And I've been going about this all wrong. Troy makes us a family. Madeline, Owen and I- Troy makes us a family. And that makes him my family. And more than that, it makes Troy my home."

Chad let go of her hand. "You love him?"

"As much as I love my children." She stood up and smiled down at him. "I don't feel that way about you. I'm sorry, Chad, but I don't. And you've come to me for all the wrong reasons. You'll find someone else, and be ridiculously happy, and have children of your own. And you'll be there for all those tiny, seemingly insignificant moments. For all the moments that count."

Chad stood up too. "I'm not… nothing I can say will change your mind, will it?"

Gabriella reached up and kissed him on the cheek. "Chad, my mind was made up years ago. I'm just catching up with it. And I'm truly sorry."

"No you're not." He wasn't bitter. Just matter-of-fact.

"Okay, I'm not. I need to go and she gestured to the bathroom. Make the moments count."

"Yeah." Chad nodded dully. "You go do that."

Gabriella touched his chin. "I'll never stop you from seeing them. You are their father. They deserve to know you, and you deserve to know them. I know you came here wanting a chance, Chad. But...I've got a chance waiting for me in the bathroom, and I can't let it pass me by."

He nodded slowly.

Gabriella gave him one last look, before she walked down the hallway, her heart thumping wildly.

The sounds of splashing water and giggling children grew louder. She could hear Troy keeping up a monologue.

She reached the doorway and watched for a moment. Troy was sitting on one of the stools, washing the shampoo out of Madeline's head, whilst he supported her neck. Owen was already out of the bath, sitting on Troy's knee, cocooned in a towel.

"And the beautiful princess realized that she didn't need a prince to live happily ever after, because she was independent woman with a brown belt in karate, a job that paid very nicely, and a fully-restored red Roadster with a black leather Interior. Instead, she could choose to be with somebody. So, she did. And she lived happily ever after, on her own terms. And her father's."

"Troy's Modern Fairy Tales," Gabriella said quietly.

He didn't seem surprised by her presence. "Hey Gabriella. Could you take Owen for me?"

She grabbed the boy, who wrapped his arms around her neck and snuggled into her body. "You aren't in here worrying that I'm about to marry Chad and run away with him to California, are you?"

Troy lifted Madeline out of the bath and wrapped her in a towel. "No." Then he stood and looked at Gabriella. "Yes. He deserves...he's their father."

"Yes. He is."

Troy nodded. "So, I won't mind...I mean, I'm not going to make some claim on them. If you...if you want to move to California and give it a shot with Chad, I'll respect that. I won't cause any problems."

"I know you won't," Gabriella agreed. Troy wouldn't look at her, and Gabriella let the silence fall. "I'm not. Getting back with Chad."

His head swung up and the look on his face made her heart bounce. "You're not?"

"No." Gabriella tilted her head. "You knew. You've known forever."

"Of course," Troy nodded. "I was just waiting for you to get a clue." He wrapped Madeline tighter, so she didn't get cold. "I don't love the children because of that, though. I love them because they're mine."

"They are. Chad's their father. You're their Daddy." Gabriella took a step closer to him. "This harried, over-worked mother and lawyer is choosing her prince."

Troy grinned. "And this harried, over-worked father and doctor is choosing his princess."

Then he bent down and kissed her.

Madeline reached out and touched Owen's nose. Her brother giggled.

None of them heard the front door shut, as Chad left.

* * *

AN: This is it. And I'm sorry it took so long but this has been a rough six months for me and I appreciate each and every review and promise whenever I thought of writing/posting it was with a warm heart. I could probably come up with a cheesy, terrible epilouge if you're interested... If not read and review one more time for me... please, with sugar and a cherry on top? Thanks again!


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